by Terri Reed
She met his dark, smoldering gaze. Her knees loosened, and her breathing turned shallow. His full lips drew her gaze.
Abruptly, Brody stepped back. Cooling air filled the space between them. Like a door slammed shut, Brody’s eyes became shuttered and his expression closed, unreadable. He spun on his heel and strode into the living room.
Kate sagged against the table. What had just happened?
She forced her breathing to a slow inhale and exhale. No. No. No. She wouldn’t allow herself to be attracted to him. No way, no how. Attraction, emotions, feelings. They were distractions that would only keep her from finding the truth.
The tips of her fingers grazed the sharp edge of the knife lying on the table. She jerked away and stared at the prism of light reflecting off the blade. The sheriff didn’t believe her.
The man had nearly accused her of murder.
But he’d trusted her enough to leave the knife lying unguarded, and she couldn’t deny the yearning inside to lean on him. None of it made sense. She’d never reacted to a man in such a manner before, not even Paul.
She loathed the chaos going on inside her head, twisting up her emotions, making her see things in the sheriff’s eyes that couldn’t possibly be there.
She forced her feet to move, to carry her to the living room where Brody was stacking the ruined picture frames. His fingers carefully picked through the glass and debris.
Maybe if she concentrated on the chaos of the house and put it in order the rest would follow suit. With purposeful steps she headed to the bookshelf.
“Did you grow up in L.A.?”
Brody’s causally asked question grabbed her attention. “No. I grew up in a small town in Washington state.”
Brody nodded. “I’ve never been to that side of the country. I imagine it’s beautiful.”
“Yes, it is.” She started picking up books from the floor. “A beauty that I’d never appreciated until I’d moved to southern California.”
“Is that where you met Paul?”
“Is this an interrogation?” she countered tightly.
When no reply came, Kate glanced up to find Brody’s intense gaze locked on her.
“No, Kate. I was just curious.”
“Oh.” She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”
Brody began picking up the strewn magazines off the floor. “What took you to L.A.?”
“School.”
“Where?”
She smoothed the pages of a hardback fiction book. “I received a scholarship to UCLA.”
“That’s a long way from home.” Brody bent to pick up a rectangle of paper from the floor.
She shrugged and watched his blunt fingers rub the edge of a business card. “It got me away from my mother and gave me a purpose. Something to work towards.”
He tucked the card into the front pocket of his shirt. “Why did you want to get away from your mother?”
She reached for another book. “My mother…has problems.”
There was a moment of silence and Kate was glad he didn’t ask for more about her mother.
Brody righted a chair. “Do your parents still live in that small town?”
Kate paused as she reached for more books. “My mother does. My father is retired in Florida.”
“Divorce?”
Nodding, she picked up more books and arranged them on the shelf. Maybe if she opened up and let him see who she was, then maybe she could win his trust. “I was fifteen when my father walked out.”
“That’s rough.” Brody commented softly.
“You have no idea.” She couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“Messy, huh?” Compassion filled Brody’s tone.
“My father was career military. Special Ops. Onward and upward was his motto. Mom and I got tired of the constant moving. Mom pleaded with him to take a post in one place long enough for me to complete high school. His solution was to leave us behind.”
“Must have been hard on you.”
She shrugged, belying the hurt of her father’s desertion. “Not as hard as it was on Mom.”
“Meaning?”
She swallowed back the bitterness, the anger directed at her father, at his dedication to the job. “My mom spent so many years living in fear of losing Dad. Years of finding him gone in the middle of the night on some mission, never knowing if he’d return and if he did would he be hurt? When dad finally bugged out, Mom slipped into a deep depression and found solace in the bottle.”
The compassion in Brody’s eyes sent her heart pounding against her ribs. “I’m sorry, Kate.”
With a shrug she dismissed his sympathy. “Yeah, well. I tried to pick someone unlike my father. Someone safe. Risk-free. I mean, how much more stable and normal could I get than a financial consultant?” She laughed at the irony. “Look where that got me.”
“Some risks you can’t foresee.”
“Right.” She tracked Brody’s movement to the couch. His hand traced the dent in the stuffing left by her fist. Goose bumps raised along her flesh. What would his caress feel like?
She rubbed her arms and pushed the ridiculous question away. “And you, Brody? You a native of Havensport?”
“No.”
The one-word answer conjured up a ton of questions, but Kate didn’t ask. She didn’t want to know this man, didn’t want to get too close and start to care. She might not be able to foresee all risks, but there were some risks she could avoid.
“What do you plan to do with this place?” he asked.
She thought about that. She certainly wouldn’t be living here, her life was back in L.A. and keeping it as a vacation home didn’t seem right. She doubted she’d ever relax here. This was Paul’s, not hers. “I’ll sell it.”
He nodded and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “And all this stuff?”
“Box it up and give it away. I don’t want any of it.”
“Sounds like a plan. We can get some boxes from the mercantile.” He glanced at his watch. “Let’s get you settled at Myrtle’s first. We can deal with this tomorrow.”
Though she was grateful for his willingness to help, she wondered what he saw as he stared at her with his dark, hooded eyes. Could he see her wounded heart? Did he realize how difficult this all was for her? Could she handle compassion from a guy like him?
Only one thing to do. Shore up her defenses against any compulsion to lean on him. She’d get through this. God would help her.
She lifted her purse from the floor by the front door. As she left the little bungalow by the ocean, she wished she could as easily leave the past behind.
It would be a long while before she could put Paul’s memory to rest. She only hoped she didn’t end up following him into the grave.
Myrtle’s white lap-sided house with its weathered cedar-shingled overhang sat on a side street right off Main Street. An easy walk from the mercantile store and not far from the sheriff’s station. An old Stars and Stripes hung from a pole on the corner of the house. The front door opened and Myrtle stepped out to greet Brody and Kate as they neared the porch.
“Oh, you sweet thing, I was so worried about you.” Myrtle slipped an arm around Kate and drew her into the small two-bedroom home.
Brody followed them in and set Kate’s suitcases near the door. Amused, he watched color flood Kate’s cheeks. He’d been on the receiving end of Myrtle’s good-natured mothering before. Watching the gray-haired woman hover over Kate made him think of his own mother.
He made a mental note to call home to check on her and see what trouble his siblings were in because there was always some crisis going on.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack today, young lady,” Myrtle gently admonished as she led Kate to the overstuffed flowery couch in the small living room.
Light from the smoldering fire in the stone fireplace caught in Kate’s hair and made her curls shine like a bright new penny. She had the grace to look contrite. “I’m sorry. I never meant to alarm you.”
>
“Well, it’s a good thing our dear sheriff was able to find you. Whatever made you take off like that?” Myrtle gave her a pointed look, her gently lined face stern, yet concern shone in her intelligent gray eyes.
This should be interesting. Brody arched a brow, waiting for Kate’s answer.
Kate slanted him a quick glance. “I wanted to see if I could find out what those men were after.”
Brody’s jaw clenched. So, she hadn’t been running to the house for safety like he’d first thought. Didn’t she have any idea how much danger she could have been in?
But then again, maybe she was lying. Maybe she’d planned this whole event to throw suspicion off herself, to cover up the fact that she’d killed her husband. The possibility tied his insides up in knots.
There was something about her. Maybe it was the way she spoke about God with such conviction that made him want to believe her.
He rubbed his chin, ignoring the sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. She’d gained a measure of his trust after the attempted kidnapping, but the small grain of trust receded to nothing more than a speck as a strange sense of déjà vu seeped into his bones.
He’d been down this road before and he wouldn’t make the same mistake he’d made with Elise. Her innocence had been a sham he’d too easily bought and paid the price for.
Kate’s words about God could be just that. Words.
“What were those men after, Kate?” he asked, hoping to catch her off guard.
She started at his question, a flash of…something in her expression. Guilt? “I don’t know.”
“So you’ve said.” His gut told him she was hiding something. His wariness grew, but he was a patient man. Time would reveal the truth. The best way to keep an eye on her was to keep her with him.
But he resisted the idea.
He still had a town to serve and he’d made it a policy years ago not to take civilians on calls. He’d learned the hard way what horrors could be witnessed. The dangers the unsuspecting could be made to suffer or, worse yet, the distraction that could cost a life. She’d be safe with Myrtle. Moving to the door, he said, “Ladies, I’ll return later to see how you’re doing.”
Kate shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. You’ve done your job here. I can manage.”
“Just the same. I’ll be back.”
She shrugged and turned away.
As he left Myrtle’s, he decided to have Warren camp out front, in case Kate’s kidnappers returned or she decided to run.
A little voice in his head warned him not to be surprised if she did take off. Kate was a woman who had secrets. Was her innocent routine an act? Did she have something to do with her husband’s death? Who were the men who’d tried to grab her? Did she have ties to them?
He thought about the story she’d told of her father and the reason she’d married Paul. She’d claimed to want a safe, risk-free life. Yet she’d come clear across the country to find answers about her husband’s death.
It seemed to him the safe, risk-free thing for her to do would be to sit back and let the authorities do their job. She was a puzzle he’d like to solve.
So many questions. No answers. Yet. Waiting and watching was the key. She’d trip herself up eventually. Then he’d know whether she was a good actress or an innocent victim.
Too bad he didn’t know which to hope for.
“Here, dear. Make yourself at home,” Myrtle showed Kate to the spare bedroom. “If you need anything, let me know.”
Grateful for the older woman’s kindness, Kate smiled. “Thank you so much. I hope I’m not imposing.”
Myrtle waved a hand. “Oh, please. Not at all.”
The jingle of the phone drew Myrtle away, leaving Kate alone in the small room with a colorful patchwork quilt covering the full-size bed and a dark oak dresser against one wall.
Everything about Myrtle’s house was warm and comforting. Very much like Kate’s memories of her grandmother. Antiques and lace doilies, things that spoke of a different era, made Kate long for the simplicity of being with her maternal grandmother, the only person whose love she’d never doubted.
On some level, she knew her parents loved her. She was their only child. But her father had been devoted to his career, her mother to her father, then to the bottle. When her husband had left, Constance Hyde had slowly slipped into alcoholic oblivion, leaving Kate feeling helpless and insecure.
Helpless. Insecure.
Feelings she’d fought and had thought she’d conquered. She was an independent woman with an upwardly mobile career that had prestige and responsibility and she’d once had a dream husband.
But that was the problem. Paul had been a dream, an illusion, and she’d been so blind. Looking for the fairytale ending of happily ever after that now she suspected didn’t really exit. Her parents certainly hadn’t found it and neither had she.
Wanting to do something productive to stop her depressing thoughts, Kate went in search of Myrtle. She found her in the living room, just finishing her phone call.
“Myrtle, would the mercantile have empty boxes I could have?” Now was as good a time as any to box up Paul’s life.
“Of course, dear.” Myrtle smiled. “Let’s walk over there.”
As they left the house, Kate noticed a sheriff’s car parked down the street. The car was slightly different than the one Brody drove and she could see Deputy Teal behind the wheel. So Brody was having her watched. For protection or because he didn’t trust her?
She wouldn’t waste her time trying to figure out his motives.
They walked the three blocks to the mercantile. Kate liked the quaint town with its rustic charm and sleepy pace. There were no rushing cars or hurrying pedestrians too busy even to smile as they passed by. The few cars on the street rolled by slowly and the spattering of foot traffic moved at a sedate pace. Kate inhaled the salty scent of the ocean and listened to the soothing sound of the waves.
Life in Havensport seemed uncomplicated and tranquil. She longed for the peace of such a life.
At the mercantile, she gathered up several empty boxes. Myrtle arranged to have the boxes delivered and left on the porch of Kate’s cottage. Then as they walked back toward Myrtle’s, Kate had an idea. “Would you mind if I walk over to the bank?”
Concern crinkled at the corners of Myrtle’s eyes. “You’ll be careful?”
“Yes,” she replied. She wouldn’t be caught unaware again.
“Don’t be long, dear. I’ll fix us something to eat.”
They separated and Kate headed toward the First National Bank. In the style of most of Havensport, the bank had cedar shingles that had been stained to a red-gold color. Baskets of multicolored flowers hung from the large roof overhang. Inside, plush beige carpeting, soothing peach-colored walls and gleaming fixtures made a welcoming atmosphere. Kate headed to the nearest desk and asked to see the manager.
A tall man in a brown business suit came out from a windowed office. He had nicely styled blond hair and a warm smile. He extended his hand. “I’m Andy Sheldon, the manager. What can I do for you?”
“Hopefully, you can tell me if my husband had an account here and if he had a safe deposit box.”
The man’s brows rose. “Well, let’s see what we can do.”
Kate followed the man back to his office. She could only hope her quest for answers would stop here. Then she could leave Havensport and the sheriff with his suspicions behind.
“Sheriff?”
Brody pressed the button on the radio attached to his shoulder. “Yes, Teal?”
“The ladybird left the mercantile and headed into the bank. You want me to go in there? See what she’s up to?”
Brody shook his head at the deputy’s corny lingo. “No. Sit tight.”
Shutting off the computer, Brody left the station and headed down the street to the bank. He had run a check on Kate, on Paul Wheeler and on Pete Kinsey and had found nothing new. No priors. No outstanding parking tickets even. O
n the surface everything looked on the up and up. Relief filtered through him, catching him off guard. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been expecting to find something shady in her past.
He walked inside the bank just as Kate was walking out of Andy Sheldon’s office. Brody stepped off to the side next to the door beside a ficus tree. Kate and Andy shook hands and then she headed toward the door.
Her shoulders were slightly slumped and her expression pensive. It wasn’t until she was reaching for the door that she noticed him. She started. “What are you doing here?”
“Keeping an eye on you.”
“Worried I might rob the bank?” she asked sarcastically before pushing through the door.
He caught her by the elbow as they stepped outside. “Worried someone will try to grab you again.” He didn’t add that he was also having her watched because he didn’t completely trust her.
Her mouth tightened at the corners. “I appreciate your diligence in doing your job, but this is overkill. Those men aren’t going to come back.”
“You don’t know that,” he countered. Or did she? “What did you find out at the bank?”
She let out a heavy sigh. “Nothing. Neither Paul nor Pete had an account or safe deposit box there.”
“Back to square one,” he murmured.
She started walking. He fell into step with her. They headed back toward Myrtle’s. “Yes. Back to not knowing anything more than I did this morning.” She kicked at a rock lying in the road and sent it scuttling into the bushes. “I had some boxes taken over to the house.”
“Good. The window will be repaired by this evening. First thing tomorrow I’ll take you over and help you pack up.”
“Anxious to get rid of me?” she asked drily as she stepped onto Myrtle’s porch.
To be honest with himself…yeah, he did want to send her on her way as quickly as possible. He didn’t like this conflicted nonsense going on inside of him. “Just trying to be of service,” he replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”