by LENA DIAZ,
“Harmony Haven,” she whispered, as if testing the name on her tongue. “You said it’s a horse rescue?”
He waved toward the stable, the main doors sealed up for the night. “There are a couple dozen horses in there, another dozen or so out in the pasture. Ashley and Dillon run horse camps every summer and adopt out most of the herd. Then rescues trickle in throughout the year and they work on rehabilitating them, regaining their trust. A couple months from now this year’s first campers will arrive. There’s a bunkhouse farther out for the farmhands and a second bunkhouse for the campers.”
“Ashley and Dillon are married?”
He nodded. “Almost a year now.”
“Then who’s Harmony?”
Chris’s smiled faded. “Dillon’s baby sister. She loved horses even more than he does, which seems impossible.”
“Loved? Past tense?”
“She died a long time ago. Hang tight. I’ll help you down.”
Before she could ask him any more questions or dredge up memories of the past, he hopped down from the truck and hurried to the passenger side. Although his black four-by-four was suspended a lot higher than the average pickup, it wasn’t quite a monster truck. It was just high enough for his six-foot-two frame to be comfortable climbing in and out. But Julie was almost a foot shorter than him, which meant he’d had to lift her up into the truck back at the station. Something he’d realized he didn’t mind one bit. She sure was a pretty thing.
She’d just opened her door when he reached her. With a mumbled apology, he put his hands at her waist and lifted her down. As soon as her shoes touched the ground, she stepped back, forcing him to drop his hands. She seemed awkward, uncomfortable as she smoothed her blouse over her khaki pants.
“Why didn’t we go to a hotel?” She followed him as he led the way toward the front porch. “Why drive so far from town?”
He stopped with his boot on the bottom step. “There’s only one hotel in Destiny. Nelson would have looked for you there.”
Her brows shot up. “I didn’t know we were hiding from her.”
He smiled. “We’re hiding more from my boss than from your ADA. I’m on administrative leave, which means I’m not even supposed to talk to you.”
“But you want answers, like you said at the station.”
He nodded.
“You aren’t too good at following orders, are you?”
“Not when I’m shut out of a case where I had to kill a man.”
She swallowed and looked away.
“Look,” he said. “I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. For now, we’re just escaping the inquisition back there and getting a good night’s sleep. As a bonus, I ensure that Nelson doesn’t whisk you off to Nashville overnight.”
She stood on the first step, then moved up one more, making her almost eye level with him.
“You seem to think that if Kathy tells me to do something, I jump to do it. What gave you that impression?”
He shrugged. “I think it’s more that she drove three hours to come to your rescue. Allowing you to talk anymore to us would have pretty much defeated the purpose in her driving down here. Lawyers don’t want their clients to talk. Ever.”
He took the stairs two at a time and paused at the door.
When she joined him there, he added, “This place has the best security around. No one is going to sneak up on you while you’re here. You’re safe.”
Her lips parted in surprise.
He shook his head, exasperated. “Did you really think I was buying the picture that Nelson was painting? It’s as obvious as the day is long that you’re both hiding something, holding something back. And if you moved to Destiny just to hide from your husband, or little high school-type pranks, you wouldn’t still be scared.”
She stiffened. “What makes you think I’m scared?”
He glanced at her hands, which she was twisting together.
She jerked them apart, her face flushing again.
“I guess the real question is whether Nelson knows whatever secrets you’re hiding.”
Her expression went blank, as if she’d thrown up a wall. He’d been fishing, but now he knew for sure that she really was hiding something. What could she be hiding that even her ADA friend didn’t know about? And why?
She looked at the truck as if debating whether to demand that he take her back to town. Sensing that if he pushed her on it, if he argued to get her to stay, that she’d push back and demand to leave, he remained silent and waited.
“Your friends Dillon and Ashley—they know we’re here? You have keys to the house?”
In answer, he separated the keys on his key ring and held up one. “If Dillon is awake, he knows. The security system texted him our picture as soon as we turned down the private road to the farm.”
Her eyes widened.
“I’m sure they don’t mind,” he continued. “But I’ll call in the morning and explain the situation.”
“Okay, then. I’ll stay. Just for the night.”
He unlocked the door and waved her inside before she could change her mind.
Chapter Eight
Of all the reckless, crazy things that Julie had ever done, sneaking off with Detective Chris Downing was probably the most outrageous and stupid. She couldn’t believe that she’d had the gumption to tiptoe out of the conference room, pausing only briefly as he whispered to his SWAT team members, and then getting into his pickup truck.
When he’d handed her that tissue in the conference room to wipe her tears, it was as if they were co-conspirators, the two of them against the world. And she’d been just desperate enough to take the lifeline that he’d offered, tricking herself into believing that he was someone she could trust. He’d been what she’d needed most at that very moment—someone to lean on, someone who would keep her safe, be a friend, if only for one night.
She was such a fool.
They had a truce, more or less, but she knew the limits. The moment she got up tomorrow he’d probably barrage her with questions, and she wouldn’t have Kathy here to deflect them. She might as well have stayed at the police station.
As she followed him inside, he paused beside a beeping security alarm keypad and keyed in the security code, disabling it. After locking the door, he set the alarm again and waved his hand to encompass the large open room.
“This is it,” he said. “Dillon took down most of the walls to give it an open floor plan. As you can see, the kitchen is on the back left. Feel free to grab something if you’re thirsty or hungry.”
She nodded, noting the granite-topped island that separated the kitchen from the great room. A straight staircase was in front of them, with a small dark hallway opening behind it on the main floor. The room was an eclectic mix of masculine and feminine touches, with dark chunky wood furniture softened by pastel throws and pillows, and rugs scattered across the hardwood floor.
“Your room is through there.” He led her through a doorway on the right, just past the front door. “This is the in-law suite, with its own private bath. Ashley’s expecting her parents to stay here for a few weeks after the baby is born. So I’m sure she’s already got it stocked with everything you could possibly need—shampoo, toothbrushes, stuff like that. But if there’s something else you need, let me know. I can check upstairs.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She hesitated by the four-poster bed. “I didn’t even think about packing a bag when I left my house.”
“We wouldn’t have let you anyway.”
Her gaze shot to his in question.
“Your house is a crime scene,” he reminded her.
“Oh.” She twisted her hands together, then remembered him noticing her doing that before when she was nervous and she forced her hands apart.
<
br /> “We’ll call Donna in the morning. She’s one of the SWAT officers. You met her, just after...”
“I remember,” she said, thinking back to the kind woman who’d sat beside her on the couch, while Alan lay on the floor not far away. She swallowed against the bile rising in her throat and rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
Looking uncomfortable, Chris shifted on his feet. “She can get you whatever you need from the house.”
She nodded. “What about you? You’ll need a bag, too.”
He shook his head. “I stay here sometimes when Dillon and I brainstorm cases, or when we have to get an early start during hunting season. Don’t stay nearly as often as I used to. But I’ve still got stuff in a guest room upstairs.” He waved toward the doorway to the great room. “If you want, we can see if Ashley has a nightgown that will fit you. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. You two are close to the same size, although you’re a bit shorter.”
“I don’t want to impose any more than I already have.”
“You’re not imposing. Trust me. Ashley and Dillon would give the shirts off their backs to someone in need.”
Trust him. She wished it were that easy. But she’d given her trust before, and it had nearly killed her.
She forced a smile. “I’ll be okay without borrowing any clothes. Where will you stay? The guest room you mentioned upstairs?”
His gaze dropped to her hands, and she realized she was twisting them together again. She tugged them apart and tried to keep her expression neutral. She didn’t want him to know that she was already getting scared again. It was stupid, ridiculous, to be worried about anyone finding her way out here. But Alan had found her. And that meant that anyone could. So what was she going to do? Going home to Nashville didn’t seem like a good option. But neither did staying here. She hadn’t been thinking clearly when she’d told Kathy that she wasn’t leaving. She should go somewhere else. But how could she leave without a destination in mind?
Chris was studying her. What did he see? Again, she tried to keep her expression neutral, to hide the doubts, the questions, even the fear roiling through her mind.
Finally, he said, “I like the couch down here just fine. If you need anything, just holler.”
The couch. This house was huge, probably had four or five bedrooms upstairs, and he was taking the couch. Either he was an old-fashioned Southern gentleman and truly wanted to be close by if she needed him, or he suspected something and didn’t want to let her out of his sight. She thought about arguing with him, to try to get him to go upstairs. But that would probably only make him suspicious, if he wasn’t already.
“Thank you,” she said.
He tipped his head as if he were wearing a hat, but continued to stand there.
The silence drew out between them.
She motioned toward the cell phone on his belt. “I’m surprised your boss hasn’t called you by now.”
“Ringer’s off. What about Nelson?” He waved at her purse. “I assume you’ve got a cell phone in there. But she hasn’t called you.”
“Ringer’s off.”
They both smiled.
He motioned toward the clock on the bedside table. “The sun will be coming up sooner than you think. I reckon we’d better get some sleep while we can.” He tipped his head again. “Good night, Julie.”
“Good night...Chris.”
His smile broadened, and then he stepped through the doorway. He’d just grabbed the doorknob when she called out to him.
“Chris?”
He glanced back in question.
“Tomorrow, when news of my husband’s death spreads, when Kathy tells his family what happened, they’ll demand justice. They’ll accuse me of orchestrating his death. They’ll say some really awful, terrible things about me.”
His brows furrowed.
She took a step toward him, then another, until the tips of her shoes pressed against the tips of his boots. “But I promise you, I didn’t plan any of this. I would never have placed you in the position that you were in today if I could have prevented it. I’m so sorry that you got involved.”
He slowly raised his hand toward her, giving her every chance to step away.
She didn’t.
He feathered his fingers across her cheek, pushing back some of the hair that had fallen across her face. But, instead of dropping his hand, he cupped her cheek, as he stared down into her eyes. She felt the warmth of his touch all the way to her toes.
“Who else are you afraid of?” he whispered.
She wanted to trust him, to ask for his help. But this wasn’t his fight. She couldn’t involve him any more than she already had.
She gently pulled his hand down, squeezed it, then let it go.
“Good night, Chris.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Good night, Julie.”
The door closed behind him. She sat down on the bed, listening to the sounds of the house settling around her, to the sound of him going upstairs, probably to get sheets and pillows for the couch. Water ran in the bathroom down the hall a few minutes later. And not long after that, the light under the door went dark.
She continued to sit on the bed, thinking about what had happened, about what would happen tomorrow, about what she needed to do. She twisted her hands in her lap, watching the minutes tick by on the clock. When the clock struck two, she stood and grabbed her purse.
Chapter Nine
Chris used the tongs to put the last piece of bacon onto the paper-towel-lined plate with the others and turned off the stove. He shoved the hot pan of grease into the oven to be cleaned later once it cooled, then stepped back to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.
Other than throwing the occasional steak or ribs on a grill when he had friends over and Max wasn’t there as the master chef, cooking wasn’t his thing. He tended to live on cereal, sandwiches and an occasional hot meal of catfish and grits at Mama Jo’s Kitchen back in town. But since he’d practically kidnapped Julie last night, he figured paying her back with a stick-to-the-ribs breakfast was the least he could do.
Dillon’s wife, Ashley, was one of the best cooks he’d ever met. Her kitchen was stocked with everything he could possibly need to prepare a feast—or, in this case, scrambled eggs with cheese, fried bacon and toast. He’d looked for canned biscuits to cook, but premade dough was probably an affront to someone like Ashley. She probably made them from scratch, which was beyond his capabilities. He’d had to settle for whole-wheat toast.
Now, all he had to do was go wake Julie. He checked his watch. Seven-thirty. On a normal day he’d have been at the office for a good hour by now. Maybe Julie wasn’t an early riser like him. They had been up awfully late last night. And goodness knew she’d been through a terrible ordeal. He’d assumed the smell of bacon and freshly brewed coffee would bring her into the kitchen. But if she was too exhausted for those delicious smells to lure her out of bed, maybe he should give her just a little bit longer to sleep. Everything could be reheated. And he did have some calls to make.
He covered the food with paper towels to keep it from getting cold and plopped down at the table. The first call he made was to Dillon. After getting an update on Ashley and the baby, he explained to Dillon about what was going on with the case and why he’d crashed at Harmony Haven for the night. As expected, Dillon didn’t mind one bit and had already seen the security camera text to let him know that Chris was there.
The second call didn’t go nearly so well.
“What the hell were you thinking?” his boss yelled.
Chris winced and held the phone several inches from his ear. He waited until the yelling stopped before risking holding the phone closer. After suffering through a chastisement that had him feeling like a five-year-old, he explained his reasons to his boss and agreed that he’d go ahead
and bring Julie to the police station after breakfast.
Nelson had left for Nashville late last night after the chief had essentially lied to smooth things over. He’d made it sound like it had been his idea all along for Chris to take Julie to some safe house for the night and that they’d escort her to Nashville today once she’d had a good night’s rest. The chief said Nelson had seemed more than happy to believe him as she had a heavy caseload back in town.
Of course, Chris and the others had no intention of taking Julie to Nashville. Not until they’d gotten to the bottom of their investigation. But Nelson didn’t need to know that.
He hung up and checked his watch again. The chief, of course, wanted them at the station ASAP. But with the ADA out of the picture, at least temporarily, there wasn’t as much of a rush in Chris’s opinion. He’d let Julie get a little more sleep, give her a hot breakfast, then they’d head back to town. Until he knew for sure just how “innocent” she was in what had happened at her house, he was going to try to give her the benefit of the doubt and treat her as a victim and a witness rather than like someone with more skin in the game. But he wasn’t going to let those soft, doe eyes of hers make him let down his guard, either. Maybe he could ask her the questions he was dying to ask on the way to the station, too. This administrative leave thing was going to make it next to impossible to get answers once he turned her over to his boss.
He shoved his phone back into the holder on his belt as a knock sounded at the back kitchen door. Recognizing the silhouette of Dillon’s main farmhand behind the filmy white curtain covering the glass, Chris waved in greeting. He hurried to the door and reached up to key the security code into the electronic keypad by the door. But the light wasn’t red. It was green.
The alarm was already disarmed.
He yanked his backup gun out of his ankle holster, since the chief had made him turn over his primary gun, and held it down by his thigh. He had two more pistols locked in the pickup. He’d have to remember to strap one of those on his belt when he left. On duty or off, he didn’t want to get caught without enough firepower if the need arose. Especially if someone was still after Julie Webb—which seemed possible based on the fear he’d still seen in her eyes last night.