Cache a Predator (31 page)

Sarah’s lip quivered from his touch. “Thank God.”

#

He wanted to console her, to let her know things would be okay. He wanted to kiss her. Moving his hand away from her cheek, he reached for a strand of hair that had fallen onto her face and brushed it away.

She shuddered, her eyes meeting his.

He drew her closer to him, her breath so close it tickled his nose. Would she let him kiss her? She wasn’t backing away. She was close enough that he could see the speck of gold in her brown eyes and the fullness of her lips, and smell the scent of her lavender perfume. Her cheeks flushed. His heartbeat thundered in double-time.

Her closeness stirred sensations in him he hadn’t felt in years. The parts of his body where her hands had rested tingled. He touched her bottom lip with his finger. She shuddered again, her lips parted, she closed her eyes, and leaned into him. He pressed his lips to hers, drinking and tasting the tangy morsel of hope she offered him. Maybe they could have a future together.

The tension of the last few weeks melted away. He forgot everything except for the way Sarah felt in his arms, filling them with a void he’d needed to have filled for a long time. She moaned. He held her tighter before slowly releasing her.

They broke apart and stared into each other’s eyes, speaking at the same time.

She said, “I better go.”

He said, “Can I see you again soon?”

She smiled and suddenly looked shy. “I’ll be at your custody hearing on Tuesday.”

He smiled. “Let’s hope the judge likes me this time.”

“She will.”

A man’s voice sounded from the doorway. “Can I come in?”

Chief Dunson.

Sarah turned to him. “Please, come in. I was just leaving.”

The chief stopped short when he saw Sarah. A faint gasp escaped from his lips, and the blood seemed to drain from his face.

Brett said, “Sarah Grinwald, this is Chief Dunson. Chief, I believe you knew Sarah’s mother, Rebecca Samuel.”

Chief approached Sarah with his hand outstretched. He took her hand in both of his, his eyes not leaving Sarah’s. “I knew her as Rebecca Wright. You look like her. Forgive me for staring.”

“You knew my mother?”

He smiled, still holding her hand. “I wanted to marry her, but that was a long time ago.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Sarah said. “I never knew.”

The chief finally released her hand. “She was one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“Really? I’d love to hear about that sometime. I don’t know much about her childhood.”

“Oh, I could tell you all kinds of stories.” He chuckled. “We went to high school together.”

Sarah smiled. “That’s amazing. What a small world.”

“We’ll have lunch sometime.” He finally turned to Brett as if remembering why he’d come.

“I’d like that,” she said, and turned, waving one last time to Brett.

#

Brett drove his cruiser down Main Street, talking to himself. Quinn sat in the backseat playing the bubble game on his iPad. “I could have sworn the funeral home was here on this corner.” He continued driving to the next light. Cox Street. Where was it? Then it dawned on him—the funeral home was at Market and Main.

Sheesh, he could get lost in a bag. At least he was early.

He’d never taken Quinn to a funeral home before, and he hesitated about bringing her now. Would she be too traumatized knowing her mother was in the casket? At least Ali’s mother had decided to keep it closed. She wanted family to remember Ali the way she’d looked before the accident. His parents had thought it would be healthy for Quinn to go to the service before the funeral to say her good-byes.

But as he parked the car, he hesitated, reluctant to confront Ali’s death. He sighed heavily and turned to the backseat. “You ready?”

Quinn nodded without taking her eyes off the iPad. “Wait, let me pop a few more bubbles first. I’m trying to beat my score.”

Brett turned in his seat to watch her, knowing she was putting on a front, trying to act brave. “It’s okay to be sad. You can cry today.”

She pressed the Off button, looked at him, and tears welled in her eyes. “I’m scared. I don’t want to see her.”

“That’s normal to feel that way.” He patted her knee. “Her casket is closed. See a picture of her in your mind. Remember her that way. This is your chance to say good-bye.”

“Can I bring Lambie in?”

“Absolutely.”

She handed him the iPad and gathered the worn lamb under her arm.

She refused to go anywhere without the stuffed animal. Brett understood. She’d gone through a lot, so if Lambie helped her cope, all the more reason to keep him around. Once upon a time he would have turned red carrying it, but not now. He was all about being Mr. Mom, and he didn’t give a rip what he looked like.

He hiked Quinn into his arms. With her ankle wrapped, he carried her everywhere. Part of the reason was he didn’t want to let her out of his sight, but the other part was that it was faster to carry her than for her to use the crutches.

He and Quinn were the first to arrive. A billboard at the entrance listed the names of the deceased. Ali’s name was there, but so was Dean’s. Hursey Lake only had one funeral home, so it made sense that both viewings would be at the same place.

Brett’s stomach tumbled at the thought of seeing Sarah again.

Mrs. Greer had arranged a photo board for pictures and mementos of Ali, which sat on the table at the entrance of the viewing room.

Brett held Quinn in front of the collage display of Ali’s life. They surveyed pictures of her as a plump infant, taking her first baby steps, learning to ride a bike, on Christmas morning as a teen, and in the delivery room with Quinn.

The same smile lit her face in almost every shot. In her younger photos she showed no restraint, smiling openly, innocence displayed in the dimples of her cheeks. But as she grew, her smile changed and became more guarded. She lost the confident look, and in its place was an angry and insecure Ali. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Brett had lived with her injured look for a long time. He saw it in the way she held her head and rounded her shoulders. If he closed his eyes, he could hear it in the vagueness of her dialogue too.

He couldn’t believe her life was over.

Quinn’s eyes filled with tears. “I miss Mommy.”

“I know, sweetie.” He wiped the tears off her cheeks with the back of his hand. “I know.”

He took her to the little room off to the side of the viewing area, the one for families of the deceased, and settled her in a chair, elevating her leg, and handed her the iPad.

His parents arrived and entered the kitchen. His mother held several aluminum foil pans full of lunch meats and potato salad. She placed one in front of Quinn on the table. The room smelled of turkey and Swiss cheese. “You’ll be here awhile today; you’ll need energy to keep you going.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Brett kissed her on the cheek.

His father pulled up a chair next to Quinn. “What game are you playing?”

“The bubble game. You have to pop the bubbles before they fall. You count your points.”

“Do you think I could learn how to play it?”

Quinn giggled. “Yes. It’s not hard. Do you want me to teach you?”

Brett watched as his father pulled up a chair next to Quinn, amazed at how easy it was for his father to talk to her. He wasn’t sure why it surprised him, though. After all, his father had played all those board games with him when he was a kid.

Brett’s mother slipped her arm around Brett. “Ali’s family is here. Are you ready?”

Brett nodded and took a deep breath hoping he’d be able to stay calm in front of Mrs. Greer and Mark. Seeing them without Ali nearby would feel surreal. He coughed to clear the lump in his throat.

#

Two hours later, after most of the visitors were gone, Brett snuck out of Ali’s parlor, confident Quinn was okay. She’d taken Ali’s death better than he thought she would. When friends and family paid their last respects, they’d hugged Quinn and cried. A dry-eyed Quinn told them she’d see her mother in heaven someday. It was as if she was trying to stay strong for other people.

Brett headed to Dean’s viewing area at the end of the building. He stood in the doorway watching Sarah say good-bye to the last of her friends who were paying their respects. There were only about a dozen flower arrangements adorning the room. Brett doubted Dean had had many friends.

He watched Sarah without her knowing. She tucked her long hair behind one ear, exposing her slender face. A high heel dangled from her foot as she shifted from one leg to the other. Standing all day took its toll; his feet ached too. The dark circles under her eyes made him want to scoop her up in his arms and take the pain away. When she turned to him, his heartbeat quickened and his lips went dry. He wished he could take away the sadness in her eyes—the same sorrowful gaze he’d seen in the painting of her mother.

Sometimes life wasn’t fair. Obviously her father must have been a demon for Dean to do what he’d done. How could Brett have been so stubborn with his own father, a man who’d never hit him or abused him but had only wanted the best for him?

He wanted to believe that the tragedy would bring him closer to Sarah. Maybe in time it would. They’d suffered a tragedy together. No one could ever take away that connection. He understood what had happened to her better than anyone. And she understood him. He didn’t want to dwell on it, but it comforted him to know that they’d always have a connection.

All her guests had finally gone. She leaned against the casket with her hand on top, dropping her foot out of the heel of her shoe again. He made his way toward her, eager to gaze into her eyes, express his condolences again.

He gulped down the thick knot in his throat and approached her, gently placing his hand on the small of her back. She turned to him, her eyes searching his. “Hi.”

He took her hand and led her toward him, pulling her into his arms. He drank in the softness of her body, her fragrance—subtle, sensual, and clean.

At first, she tensed.

He locked his eyes onto hers, their mouths inches apart. “I’m really sorry for your loss.” He embraced her again and felt her gradually relax until finally she hugged him back, and a sob escaped from somewhere deep inside her.

“Thanks. I’m sorry for yours too.” She released her embrace and gazed at Dean’s shiny ivory casket. “Abuse sucks, you know? People all over the world suffer from the fallout of horrible, stupid parents.” She paused. “Helping women deal with the trauma it causes helps.”

Brett took her into his arms again, and this time held her tighter, feeling her body relax. He looked into her eyes. “Quinn wants to see you.”

She smiled. “She does?”

Brett nodded. “Absolutely.” He smiled. “And your horse too.” He reached up behind her back and played with the hair that tumbled there. “She asked if she and Sadie could come to your farm to ride.”

She chuckled. “Really? Who’s Sadie?”

“The little girl from the foster home. Quinn said her parents died in a fire.”

Sarah furrowed her brows. “How tragic.”

Their faces were inches apart. “Bring the girls. They can both ride Beauty.” She sounded breathless, her voice low and throaty.

He bent his head toward her neck, his arm around her back, pressing her body to his, and feeling the strength and the softness of her small frame. He buried his face into her hair, smelling the coconut fragrance and wishing he could hold her for hours. She felt right in his arms, like she belonged there. Why was it when people were totally broken they seemed to be able to hold each other with so much more passion?

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sarah trembled as she turned the corner downtown in front of Hursey Lake’s courthouse. Was she ready to see Brett again? No, but she’d promised to attend the hearing, and she wanted to, but her nerves were raw. Ever since the kiss she hadn’t been able to get Brett out of her mind. It had changed everything. She wanted to pursue a relationship with him, but maybe the kiss hadn’t meant the same to him. Had he only been consoling her, or did he want more?

She spotted him holding Quinn’s hand outside the justice building. Her stomach fluttered at the sight of him in his dark suit. He looked younger and more handsome than in his uniform. He smiled at her and Quinn waved.

Was she late? She glanced at her watch. No, the hearing didn’t start for another ten minutes.

Perspiration lined her brow. She hadn’t wanted to leave her house, still numb from Dean’s death and all that had happened. She didn’t want to show her face around town either, but she wanted to make sure Brett was granted permanent custody of Quinn.

She joined them on the sidewalk. Brett’s blue eyes twinkled. He took a step forward as if to embrace her, but hesitated and said, “Thanks for coming.” His warm breath tickled her ear, and she smelled the scent of his earthy pine cologne. The sound of cars rushing by and people on the sidewalk reminded her that they were standing in public view, so she took a step back even though she wanted to feel him in her arms and tell him how glad she was to be there. But she couldn’t speak. Swallowing, she moistened her dry mouth.

When Quinn took her hand and led her skipping into the building, Sarah relaxed. Kids had a way of seeming to forget so easily. They didn’t belabor over events they couldn’t change.

Quinn looked up at Sarah, her dark curls bouncing in rhythm to her step. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

Sarah’s heart fisted. What a sweet child. She squeezed Quinn’s hand, thankful for her sympathy and lack of inhibition. “Thanks, Quinn. I miss him.” Sarah turned and met Brett’s eyes, realizing he’d watched the exchange, and felt her cheeks grow warm.

Quinn said, “I miss my mom too.”

Sarah squeezed Quinn’s hand. “I’m sorry for your loss too.”

The child pouted. “Thanks. I’ll see her again in heaven someday.”

“You will.”

Mr. and Mrs. Reed greeted them inside. Brett introduced her as Dr. Sarah Grinwald, as they’d never officially met. He didn’t mention that she’d been the counselor working with CPS on his custody case. But she was certain they knew—they probably remembered her from the press release.