Fatal Reunion

by Jessica R. Patch

  “Okay,” he whispered.

  “I’m probably going to prison. I broke into Boone’s home and I’m not a cop. Plus, my sword is what killed him. My business card was on Tyson’s body. They may think I hurt Harmony, too.”

  “It doesn’t look great. And anyone who saw a bloody hand would break in to try and save someone. Mitigating circumstances.” The fact it was her sword made it a different story. But Forbes was unbiased. He needed to come to the same conclusion Luke had. Piper was being framed.

  Luke pulled into the precinct.

  “I really am sorry.”

  “I know.” He wished it could go somewhere with them. Maybe someday it could. Wasn’t as if he’d ever be able to love anyone else, but gazing into her watery eyes...he was losing resolve by the second. Time to change the subject again. His nerves were shot. “Direct answers only. Keep your cool.”

  Eric met them inside. Luke kept his hand on Piper’s lower back, reassuring her things would be okay.

  He wasn’t sure he could do this. Sending her in like a criminal, then having to explain why he couldn’t be with her when he desperately wanted to be.

  Lord, give me strength. Give her strength.

  “Piper, do you want a lawyer? That’d be smart.”

  Piper raised her chin, and with a straight face and stony eyes she stared dead into his. “I have nothing to hide. Not from last night or that night at Ellen Strosbergen’s. I don’t need a lawyer.”

  He led her into the interrogation room. Detective Forbes scooted a chair out for Piper. “Just want to ask you a few questions, Miss Kennedy.”

  “Okay.”

  Luke paused at the door, gave her one more look and entered the adjacent room to watch.

  Piper sat in front of Forbes, a cool exterior, but not defensive. Her posture was poised, but not stiff, hands resting in her lap.

  Eric leaned on the wall. “So this has got to be a little awkward.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Luke scratched the back of his head. “She’s clean. I just don’t know what he’ll say about her going through the window.”

  “He’s not assigned this case, Luke. He’s simply asking some questions, so if anything comes up later, in regards to her relationship with you, it’s an unbiased interview.”

  Luke was biased. Riding so many hills of emotions he couldn’t sit across from her and be objective. “Why didn’t you do it, then?”

  “You’re my partner and my friend. Makes me biased.” He smirked. “And the ninja’s grown on me. She made a bad decision for the right reason.”

  Luke needed to talk about something else. Shoptalk. “How does a man vanish for ten years without a peep?”

  Eric pushed off the wall and stood beside Luke, watching as Piper answered questions about Christopher Baxter, Tyson Baroni and Boone Wiley. “I don’t know. He made off with something valuable and turned it into cash—if it wasn’t cash—and disappeared.”

  Luke rubbed his chin. “Who knows? Maybe he’s been living it up in Costa Rica.”

  “Does anyone really live it up in Costa Rica? Monte Carlo. The Caymans...but I don’t know about Costa Rica.”

  A small laugh pushed through Luke’s tension. Exactly what Eric had meant to accomplish. Humor was his way of relaxing a somber situation. Wasn’t always appropriate, like last night, but Luke could stand to relax or he’d end up with a migraine.

  Forbes pointed to the sword in the evidence bag. “Can you identify this, Miss Kennedy? Does this belong to you?”

  Piper glanced at the sword. “I can’t say whether it’s mine or not. I have one like it. I can, however, identify it for you. It’s a tachi koshirae. To be precise, it’s an Ito Maki tachi.”

  “Sounds like an organic potato chip to me.” Eric pressed his stomach. “Maybe I’m just hungry.”

  Luke sped to the door. “She should’ve gotten a lawyer.”

  “Calm down. She’s doing fine.”

  “It was made in the koto era, worn by higher-ranking samurai.” Piper kept cool and collected.

  Luke was going out of his mind.

  “You know a lot about Japanese swords,” Forbes said.

  “I do.”

  “Can you tell me how this ended up in Boone Wiley’s gut?” Forbes leaned forward, wiped a layer of sweat from his forehead.

  “I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” Forbes’s tone turned steely.

  Luke raked a hand through his hair. “He’s about to get belligerent with her.”

  Eric arched a dark eyebrow. “Pretty sure she can handle it. She’s not your typical damsel in distress, if you haven’t noticed.”

  No, she wasn’t.

  “You know, not every guy has it made like you. Your job...doesn’t scare her. She just bucks up and fights alongside you.” Eric’s tone carried an air of loneliness and longing, but they weren’t about to have a heart-to-heart. Any minute—

  “Or saves your keister.” He chuckled.

  There it was—turning serious into flippant.

  “I’m secure enough in my manhood to accept that.”

  Forbes shoved his chair and leaned back, crossing an ankle over his knee. “So you think the person responsible stole the sword before he set your dojo on fire?”

  Piper’s expression shifted. The calm before the storm. Not good.

  Eric pointed toward her. “Uh-oh. I’ve seen that look before. Right before she—”

  Stretching across the table, Piper narrowed her eyes, heat blazing from them. “Maybe before or after he nailed the storage-room window shut. Definitely before he poured gasoline all over my front office and set my livelihood—everything I’ve worked for, everything I am—on fire. And it had to be before my lungs filled with smoke and I nearly died. Right before one of your own detectives saved my life and almost lost his own. Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying happened, Detective Forbes. Either arrest me or send me walking. I am so done with this interview.”

  “I was gonna say right before she put you in your place at Harmony Fells’s home. Looked just like that.” Eric brushed his hands together. “Well, now that that’s over, let’s go get the real killer, shall we?”

  “Absolutely.” Luke’s gaze lingered on Piper as she glared at Forbes.

  Everything she is.

  That wasn’t true. She was more than a building. More than her job.

  God, help her to see that. Somehow. Some way.

  FOURTEEN

  Piper had endured the interrogation, trying to keep her focus on the questions and not on what Luke was thinking. Standing on her doorstep earlier, Luke had pain etched across his face and what looked like anger. He’d tossed out a few words and instructions, and then he remained quiet while he white-knuckled the steering wheel.

  After the interrogation, he’d barely spoken other than to tell her she’d done a great job, even though she’d lost her temper toward the end. Twice, he’d turned down the radio and acted as if he were going to have a conversation, but after a few frustrated sighs, he didn’t. And Piper didn’t push. She was too afraid to hear what he had to say. And yet she wanted to know what was on his mind.

  Looked as if it was going to be awkward silence and tension from here on out, though.

  Piper trudged down the rehab corridors where Luke had left her, alone. Dazed.

  Any second her insides were going to combust. Mama Jean. Right now, she needed her grandma.

  Entering her room, Piper relaxed at the sight of Mama Jean. “You feeling okay? No more confusion?”

  “I’m feeling better. You look worse for wear, though.”

  Piper touched her cheek. Couldn’t hide the physical injuries, but Piper had a sneaky feeling Mama Jean wasn’t even looking at the bumps and bruises. She’d had to tell he
r about the car accident. The circumstances surrounding it, not so much.

  “If you’d shown up twenty minutes ago, you’d have missed me. Therapy. I’m getting stronger every day.”

  Piper wished she could say the same. “Good. You hungry? Want a drink or anything?”

  “No. Come sit with me.” She patted the back of the chair next to the bed. “Tell me why you’re carrying the weight of the world.”

  Piper dropped in the chair. “Harm’s still missing. I’m... I’m scared.” There—she’d admitted it. Finally. Out loud. She was scared. Terrified.

  “You should pray for her.”

  Piper licked her dry lips. “I...I have. I just don’t know if God pays attention to my prayers. I wouldn’t blame Him.”

  Mama Jean held Piper’s hand. “Seems to me it’s not God you have a problem with. It’s you.”

  “Me?” Piper snorted. “What does that even mean?” Mama Jean also had a penchant for riddles.

  “What do you think it means?” Her bright eyes shone even brighter, and she smiled.

  “If I knew I wouldn’t have asked.”

  “Well, I do believe I’ll let you and God sort through that together.” Accent of a true Southern belle and the evasiveness of a criminal.

  “Wouldn’t He have to talk to me first?” She thought He might be, but then it rained hail down on her. Even Luke wasn’t talking to her.

  “You telling me you haven’t heard Him speakin’ to ya, child? Feeling a bubbling sensation deep inside? Hearing things you know you’d never tell yourself, like thoughts talkin’ a storm inside your heart?” She peered into Piper’s eyes.

  “Maybe. A scripture from the Bible popped into my head. Don’t know where from, but I know I’ve heard it somewhere or read it before. Maybe at church camp or in church.” When she used to go to church with Mama Jean.

  “He’s talking. Drop those crusty walls and listen. He’s a good God, Piper. You can trust Him with your heart.”

  The few times she’d given her heart, someone broke it.

  The day she asked Jesus into her life and was baptized came back. Had she even given God a shot after that?

  Something tightened in her chest. No.

  She’d been too afraid she’d ruin it. Disappoint Him. Terrified He’d hurt her. Like her mother.

  In the end, she had disappointed Him. God had every right to be hurt and angry at her. He had every right to leave her. To turn her away if she came crawling back.

  “Mama Jean, you always make my heart break a little...but I keep comin’ back. I don’t know. I feel bad and you come to mind. Then I see you and...”

  “You won’t always have me to run to. You need to be runnin’ to someone who can do more than give you some sound advice. Someone who can heal you in places you hurt.”

  Piper hurt all over.

  “Healing won’t come without a little heart breakin’ and pain.” Mama Jean wiped her watery eyes. “Just speaking what I’ve learned over the years spending time with my Lord.”

  “Did you ever get angry when He didn’t fix Mom? I...I did.”

  “Of course I did.” Mama Jean’s chest rose when she inhaled. “Let Him know it, too. It hurt, knowing my baby girl couldn’t kick the habit. Knowing she died in a crack house. Nobody with her. No chance to say goodbye.” Tears filled her eyes. “Like I said, takes some pain to get the healin’, and I wanted to feel better. But she chose which kind of fix she wanted. I can’t blame the good Lord for the choice my baby made.”

  Piper pressed Mama Jean’s hand to her cheek. “I wanna feel better.” Anything was better than loneliness and fear, hiding behind a facade of independence and strength. How long could she pretend? The dojo—karate—it was everything to her. And God took it. Consumed it in flames.

  You shall have no other gods before Me.

  Piper jerked up as the scripture struck her heart.

  Mama Jean chuckled. “Keep listening. I see He’s talking, dear one. Listen...and obey.”

  Martial arts. Had it become her god? “I will, Mama Jean.” She kissed her cheek. “I’m gonna take a walk around the garden. You wanna come?”

  “You go. I’ll be praying.”

  Piper closed the door behind her and strolled into the garden, the fountain bubbling. Sun shining bright. Warm wind on her skin.

  God, have...have You let me go?

  He has never let you down, never looked the other way when you were being kicked around. He has never wandered off to do His own thing; He has been right there, listening.

  But had Piper been listening?

  * * *

  Monday morning had come with a glorious sunrise—streaks of magenta, baby pink and violet. April showers brought May flowers. Harmony’s tulips had sprouted like hope for a colorful future. A day like this should be used for lying on a quilt at a park, jogging at the track or sipping lemonade in a hammock.

  Not barreling down the interstate with Luke to see Sly Watson at Riverbend penitentiary.

  Piper fidgeted with the emerald ring Mama Jean had given her on her eighteenth birthday, thinking about the past few days.

  She hadn’t been arrested. Detective Forbes had come to the same conclusion as Luke and Detective Hale. Piper was being framed and Forbes called what Piper did mitigating circumstances and let her go.

  Mercy.

  Luke had cracked the window and his hair blew like reeds in the wind. Ray-Ban sunglasses shielded his eyes. To keep Piper from noticing how many times he glanced in his rearview mirror? A tick in his cheek proved he was as tense as Piper. Every car was a potential threat.

  Luke still wore the haggard and twisted expression of an inner struggle. But whatever it was, he wouldn’t confide. He was business as usual. Friendly but distant.

  He turned the radio down. “Prints came back on the cigarette box. But now that Boone’s dead, it only established he was in your house. No way to find out why. Nothing on his body, not even a phone.”

  Piper twisted her ring around. “I feel like we can’t get any traction.” Not on the case. Not in their might-be relationship.

  “I know. Hopefully, today will give us some. I’m fairly certain Sly now knows we lived through that wreck.”

  If Sly had even been behind the attack.

  “How was Mama Jean this morning?”

  “Better. Praying about the move.”

  “To Jackson?”

  “To anywhere.” The house was too much for Mama Jean to keep up with. Piper and Luke had tackled it again Sunday afternoon after she’d accompanied him to church. After betraying his trust, she couldn’t turn his offer down, and he seemed desperate in his asking. As if something important was riding on her answer. And she wanted to go. Felt as though she needed it.

  That hour and a half unsettled her in a peaceful kind of way. One verse stood out most. Not sure exactly which chapter or verse, or word for word, but it was in the second book of Corinthians.

  Anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone and a new life has begun.

  As she listened to the pastor, a picture had formed inside her head.

  Her house. The fixer-upper. Tons of potential. When she’d first laid eyes on it, it was nothing but an old waste of space. Hideous wallpaper and filthy carpeting. But Piper had closed her eyes to really see. With the right skill, the house could be a beautiful home.

  The intense work of scraping off the wallpaper and ripping up the carpet had been worth it in the end. The smell was even different. Fresh. New.

  “Hey, Luke?”

  He shut off the radio. “Yeah?”

  “Never mind.” She’d talk about it with Mama Jean later.

  “Too late—you snagged my interest and I know you’ve had something heavy on your mind. You’re doing that thi
ng. Fidgeting with the ring Mama Jean gave you when you turned eighteen. Which, if I remember right, you’ve got another birthday coming in two weeks. It’s on a Saturday this year.”

  Piper’s heart fluttered and crashed. Just because he remembered her birthday didn’t mean he’d celebrate it with her—this time. But maybe. A sliver of hope bubbled in her chest.

  “Yep. The big 3-0.”

  Piper glanced at her ring. Mama Jean had given it to her the morning of her birthday, and that evening she’d hung out at Riff’s. Chaz, Sly and Tyson had come in, but no one had remembered she’d turned eighteen. Harmony had made date plans, and Piper pushed her to go.

  Piper had been drinking a Cherry Coke and humming to Maroon 5’s “She Will Be Loved.” Could have been her life. Broken smile. Broken girl.

  Piper had raised her head and a man with broad shoulders and eyes so beautiful and mesmerizing strutted in. An honest face. A strong face with explicit features and the straightest teeth Piper had ever seen. Good was stamped across his forehead.

  “Do you remember that night?” Piper asked.

  Luke aired a laugh through his nose. “I remember every second like a captured snapshot in my head.”

  He’d asked if the seat across from her was taken. Piper was shocked. Why would someone like him want to sit with her? Luke had noticed her ring right off and asked about it. When he found out it was her birthday, he’d asked if she’d made a birthday wish yet. Mama Jean had baked a chocolate cake, no candle. No wishes.

  “Me, too,” Piper murmured.

  Luke ordered a brownie since Jazz didn’t have cake. And he didn’t have candles. Luke improvised.

  “I still have that lighter. Might even have some juice left in it.” He turned to her and grinned, so achingly soft she nearly cried. There had to be hope for them.

  “Birthday girls deserve a wish.” Luke pulled a BIC lighter out of his pocket, held it over the brownie and sparked a flame. Not just in the lighter, but in Piper and between them. Best moment of her life.

  She’d never made a wish over birthday candles before. Never made a wish. Didn’t believe in them, but something about Luke had tugged deep within her. Made her feel as though she was worth a wish. Piper had leaned over and blew out the lighter’s flame.