Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She Goes\A Promise for the Baby\That Summer at the Shore (17 page)

She laughed a little. She was probably semi-hysterical. “Sorry,” she said after seeing the others' expressions. “That's pretty much exactly what Noah said.”

Her brother made a sound, half hum and half growl, that she'd come to know meant he was thinking. “Actually, this is good. We needed an explanation, and now we have one. Once we dig up the ground there, we might have some answers.”

Without even looking at him, Cait felt Noah's tension.

“That doesn't help Cait,” he said. “We don't know who the second man is. But Cait
saw
him. Even if it's what we think it might be, she's the only person in the world who can put him there, burying a goddamn body.”

“Can you find the house after so long?” Nell asked.

“All we'd have to do is call up property records,” Cait told her. “But I'm pretty sure I can. I rode my bike
a lot.
I swear, I can still picture every bump for ten blocks around where the sidewalk was buckling over a tree root.”

“First thing in the morning,” her brother said decisively. His gaze rested on Noah. “You planning to come with us?”

“Yes.” That was all.
Yes.
Noah didn't even look at her.

Hadn't it occurred to him that he was seriously endangering the plan of keeping their relationship clandestine? A plan, it occurred to her, designed to protect
her
job, not his. So maybe he didn't care that much.

He and Colin were discussing when to meet. Not where—they'd already decided that. They would start in front of her childhood home. The one she'd had no desire to visit for old times' sake.

Nell gave her a sudden, sympathetic grin that neither of the men noticed. Cait rolled her eyes in return.

“All right.” Noah pushed himself to his feet, apparently satisfied. “I'll see you in the morning.” His back to Colin, he smiled at Cait. “It's good you remembered.”

“
I
should have remembered,” her sister-in-law said.

Colin kissed her cheek. “Yeah, you should have.” But he didn't sound at all critical. His Nell walked on water as far as he was concerned.

Cait went to the door with Noah, but he didn't let her step outside. “Sleep tight,” he said in a low voice, but there were no good-night kisses for her.

She locked the door behind him and turned to meet her brother's eyes.

“You're getting yourself in trouble there,” he said. “You do know that, don't you?”

“What makes you say that?” she asked, with fair dignity, if she did say so.

He shook his head. “I'm not blind.”

She was an adult. She did
not
have to answer to her brother. “We're being discreet.”

“You barely got rid of one son of a bitch, and you're taking on another?”

“Don't you dare compare Noah to Blake,” Cait said hotly.

He blinked in surprise at her furious reaction. “I didn't mean to. But he can be ruthless. Don't kid yourself he's not.”

“He's come to my rescue every time I called.”

Her brother relented. “He has. I'll give him that. But long-term...” He shook his head.

“Maybe I'm not looking for long-term.” Why even say that when she was?
She was.

His expression froze. Oh, he didn't like that. But after a moment Colin gave a stiff nod. Cait suspected Nell had squeezed his hand or elbowed him or something.

“I'm going to bed,” she announced and went, leaving a crashing silence behind her.

* * *

C
OLIN
DIDN
'
T
SEEM
any more inclined to talk this morning than she did. Seeing the house where they'd both grown up was unlikely to cause him any heartburn—he'd lived in it for several years after she was gone, after all, and had been the one to have to clean it out and sell it after their father had died. Plus, in all the years since, he was bound to have driven past it now and again.

Her tension grew as the route became increasingly familiar.

She'd been friends with the girl who lived there, on the corner, but couldn't remember her name. Cait had even had sort of a crush on the girl's older brother.
Kurt,
she thought suddenly.
Kurt and...Sarah.
She wondered what had happened to them, and whether she'd recognize either of them if they came face-to-face.

Oh—and there was the spot she'd fallen off her bike and broken her arm. That was an awful summer. She hadn't been able to swim, or ride her bike, or do hardly anything for ages.

They were only a couple of blocks away.

“Did you think about keeping the house?” she asked, her voice tight. “I mean, living here?”

“Hell, no!”

Startled at Colin's vehemence, she realized that his knuckles showed white. Maybe she had been wrong. His memories might be even worse than hers.

“When I left for college, I swore I'd never set foot in the place again,” he said after a minute. “Of course, I had to when the time came to put it on the market.” He paused. “I wouldn't have kept it no matter what. You were entitled to half of the only estate he had to leave us.”

She nodded. “I almost told you I didn't want it.”

He laughed. “I gave serious thought to burning the house down and being done with it.”

That made her mouth curve. “There were enough zeroes on the check, greed overcame me. It paid a lot of tuition.”

“I'm glad.” He smiled at her, warmth in those gray eyes. “It gave me a down payment. Something good came from his legacy.” He steered his SUV to the curb and set the emergency brake. “Here we are.”

Oh, boy.

Reluctantly, she turned her head, felt a momentary lurch in her chest followed by...relief.

She'd have recognized the house, of course she would have, but it had changed so much, too. Painted a sunny yellow with pale rust-and-white trim, the small rambler looked cheerful. Neither of their parents had been gardeners, but someone who lived there now was. A white-painted arch at the side of the house was covered with a rose that wasn't yet in bloom and a blue-flowered clematis. A broad border brimming with perennials separated the small lawn from the sidewalk. A pink girl's bike with handlebar ribbons lay on its side in the driveway.

Cait stared.

Colin hadn't moved. “I also swore I'd never mow another lawn.”

“But you would if Nell wanted one, wouldn't you?”

He gave a gruff laugh. “You've got me there. I might even enjoy it.”

Tears prickled in the backs of her eyes even as she found herself smiling as she gazed out the side window at a house that looked happy. What better illustration that life does move on?

“So,” her brother said, all business again. “Do we walk from here, or do we drive?”

* * *

A
LEC
R
AYNOR
DIDN
'
T
invite Colin to sit down. After summoning him midmorning with a terse phone call, he kept him standing there like a disobedient kid in the principal's office. All he did was sit behind that desk and survey Colin with scathing dark eyes.

“Tell me about this warrant.”

Shit.
Colin didn't even know how he'd heard. By nine-thirty that morning, Cait had led them all straight to the house. A search of records showed that Hegland had sold it ten years ago. Jane had gone for a warrant allowing them to look under the concrete patio in the backyard. Just before the phone call from Raynor, Colin had learned the warrant had come through.

“Are you aware that the gun used to fire the shots that killed Jerry Hegland was also used to attempt to kill my sister?” Colin asked.

“I was. Although not from you.” The bite wasn't meant to be subtle.

It took a discernible moment for Colin to unclench his jaw. “We've been searching for a connection between Cait and Hegland. We've found one.”

“We.”

“Last I knew, Investigations is under my authority.”

“Under your authority is one thing. But this is your sister. It didn't occur to you that it might be smart to keep some distance?”

“What if this was
your
sister?”

“I don't have one.”

“Anyone you love.”

A nerve jumped in his cheek. The next moment, his eyebrows peaked. “You're asking if I understand why you don't feel like you can sit back and wait for someone else to figure out who is trying to kill your sister.”

“Yes.”

“I do understand. Will
you
understand when the D.A. declines to file charges because the investigator was biased?”

He'd have given any underling the same lecture. Fury still burned in his chest and rose like acid in his throat. Swallowing it, he couldn't say a word without risking the wrong ones coming out.

“Your sister knew this Jerry Hegland.”

Colin gave a tight nod.

“What about you?”

“Not at all when we were kids. More recently... I don't recall meeting him although it's possible I have.”

“Were you aware that your sister knew this man?”

Another
shit.

“She told me a couple of weeks ago.”

A man with a gift for stillness, Raynor finally leaned forward, those dark eyes locked on Colin's. “Did she tell you that Hegland had an affair with your mother?”

“Yes.”

“And it never crossed your mind that you are too goddamn personally involved to play
any role at all
in this investigation?”

“Lieutenant Vahalik is leading it,” he said woodenly.

“Uh-huh. And did you share with the lieutenant what you knew about Mr. Hegland?”

“I believed it had no relevance.”

“Until you found out it did.”

“When my sister realized the relevance, she immediately shared the history with Lieutenant Vahalik.”

“
She
did.”

“Neither of us was hiding anything. There's something
you
have to understand. This isn't Los Angeles. Angel Butte is...not a small town anymore, but it was. I know a good part of the population. I went to school with some of them. I know whose father was a drunk, whose mother burned her with cigarette butts. I didn't like my father's cronies, but when they're victim or perpetrator, I treat them the same as I do anyone else. When something I know becomes relevant, I act on it. Otherwise, I keep confidences. My mother's relationship with this man took place twenty years ago. My family is entitled to some privacy, just like every other family in this town is.”

Raynor's eyes had narrowed. For a long time, he didn't say anything. Finally he made a rough sound in his throat.

“You're right. Up until you were wrong.”

Colin stood stiffly. At last he bent his head in an acknowledging nod.

“Sit,” Raynor snapped.

He closed his eyes, thought about telling the son of a bitch where to go and how long he should roast there, then counted to ten. At which point he was able to unbend enough to take a seat.

“Our detectives aren't as experienced as I'd like,” he said, hating that he had to explain himself. “You've looked at the personnel records. People with experience got frustrated and left the department. They weren't getting the pay or support they should have been.”

“I'm aware of the issues,” Raynor conceded. “I admit I wondered why you chose Vahalik to head Investigations.”

“Only a couple of detectives have more experience than she does. Neither of them are as smart, or have people skills to match hers. She's good.”

“All right.”

He had one last thing to say. “I've tried to stay on the right side of a line while protecting my sister to the best of my ability.”

Raynor sat back in his chair, his face showing some wear it hadn't a few minutes before. “I'll say this again. I sympathize, but you have to back off.” He held up a hand. “I'm not telling you not to play bodyguard. But you can't talk to witnesses or suspects. You've got to quit pulling Vahalik's strings. You say she's good. Trust her.”

Colin had seldom detested anything like he did being censured by the man who sat behind
his
desk, but he had no choice but to take it. What most shamed him was the knowledge he deserved every word. And more. He'd had no business being the one to interview Blake Ralston, even if he had stuck to the present crime.

“Are we done?” he asked.

“Yeah.” There was a subtle shift in Raynor's expression. “This doesn't mean you can't go watch the excavation. I admit, I'm curious. I may stop by myself.”

Colin pushed himself out of his chair. “Bored so soon?” he asked sardonically.

The new police chief was good at veiling his expression. “It's...not what I'm used to.”

They had yet to manage anything really friendly. They weren't going to start now. Colin nodded and left without another word.

CHAPTER TWELVE

T
HE
BACKYARD
of the small tract house was a popular place to be, Noah discovered. He understood why. God knew he
didn't have any business there, and he couldn't stay away. His initial surprise at seeing Alec Raynor among the spectators faded; he found he even approved. A hands-on administrator himself, he wouldn't have wanted a police chief content to sit on his ass behind the desk any more than he'd appreciated former chief Bystrom's habit of spending half his working days riding a chairlift at Mount Bachelor or thigh-deep in the Deschutes River casting a line, depending on the season.

It was telling, however, that Cait's brother stood on the opposite side of the excavation from Raynor. No fellowship growing there. Which didn't matter to Noah, only that they worked together when they had to. If not, one or both would be gone.

Instinct told him he wouldn't have to interfere, though. Colin had put off announcing his candidacy for county sheriff, probably because of his sister's troubles, but he'd be running. If he lost, Noah guessed he'd find a job somewhere else. He wasn't a personality content to be subordinate to a man not much older than him and possibly less qualified for the job of police chief.

Both men glanced at him, neither looking thrilled to see him, then turned immediately back to the growing hole. To one side of it was the dirt that had been shoveled out; a few feet away, broken concrete had been heaped after it had been jackhammered into pieces.

Jane Vahalik and another plainclothes officer were present, too, as well as a couple of people Noah assumed were crime scene technicians. A young, distressed-looking woman hovering by the sliding door might be the home owner.

Noah nodded at Raynor but circled the yard until he reached Colin's side.

“We're going to feel foolish if there's nothing here,” he said in a low voice, only belatedly realizing that by saying “we,” he was aligning himself with McAllister.

“We have to look.” Colin shook his head. “Who are we kidding? We'll feel more than foolish. We'll discover we still don't have a clue.”

Noah grunted agreement. “Were Cait's handprints still visible?”

Colin jerked his head toward the pile. “Take a look. We set that chunk aside.”

Noah saw now that one piece of concrete, approximately two feet by two feet, lay separate from the pile. Stepping closer, he stared down at it. There they were—two small handprints, neatly set in place, fingers splayed. Cait's.

His heart lurched, and it was a long time until he could make himself look away.

“You going to take it with you?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Colin rotated his shoulders as if to relieve stiffness. “It's part of her life.”

“Good.” Noah was more relieved than he wanted to be.

After their brief exchange, no one talked except the two guys taking turns in the hole. They had apparently started with shovels but were now working with what appeared to be gardening trowels. Impatient as he was, Noah understood. If there were bones, the medical examiner would want them as intact as possible.

The day was hot. Noah slapped at mosquitoes and flies. Traffic passed out on the street. A lawn mower growled a few houses away. The unmistakable rumble of a school bus came and went, followed by the shouts of kids. The home owner eventually went inside and returned with a pitcher of lemonade and plastic cups for everyone. Phones rang and were mostly ignored, although Raynor stepped away for one intense conversation, as did Vahalik twenty minutes or half an hour later.

Noah began to get restless and think about everything piling up in his absence, but he didn't even consider leaving although he couldn't have said why. Interestingly, Raynor never moved beyond downing a glass of lemonade and nodding his thanks to the young woman.

The guy in the hole said suddenly, “Here we go.”

Everyone present pointed as if they were a pack of hunting dogs that had just caught the scent.

There was a lot of discussion among the crime scene people, and the trowels were discarded in favor of brushes and some other tools Noah couldn't make out. A small woman kneeling beside the hole seemed to be in charge. She finally swiveled to look at Lieutenant Vahalik and Colin.

“We've definitely got a skeleton,” she said, her voice charged with satisfaction. “It'll take us another few hours to get him out.”

Colin stepped forward. “Him?”

“Bones aren't my thing, but I'm betting male. Look at the size of the humerus.”

Noah joined the cluster around what they now knew was a grave. The soil lacked the reddish tint that was common in the area, the result of relatively recent volcanic activity. The curve of skull was visible, emerging from the soil, as was the arch of ribs and the bones of one arm. From the position, it appeared it had lain across his chest or belly when the dirt came down on top of him.

Colin, who had squatted behind the woman he called Linda, glanced over his shoulder and met Noah's eyes. The silent moment of communication didn't call for words.

Noah had seen enough. Cait would be waiting to hear.

* * *

C
AIT
THOUGHT
SHE
might go crazy. Forbidden from leaving city hall during the day, therefore unable to personally inspect sites, visit ongoing projects or meet with anyone outside her office, she could do about half the job. Otherwise, she was supervised by one of the two men in her life, both alpha males who assumed she'd jump when told to jump and who looked vaguely surprised when she expressed even the slightest bit of frustration. She wondered if they had any idea how much they had in common.

Kindness was one of the qualities they shared, fairness reminded her. Noah had stopped by her office yesterday afternoon to let her know what had been uncovered beneath the patio. He didn't linger, but must have known how tensely she was waiting to hear the news.

Midmorning today, Jane Vahalik knocked and came in. “I'm sure you know the remains are now with the medical examiner,” she began.

Cait nodded. “Has he learned anything yet?”

“So far, all we've been told is that the bones definitely belonged to a male, a big guy, likely in his forties.”

“How will you be able to identify him?”

“If he was reported missing, that won't be a problem given dental records. Otherwise, it will be a bigger challenge.”

A little surprised the lieutenant was being so open with her, Cait decided to push it. “Do you know what killed him?”

Jane eyed her for a minute and then seemed to make a decision. “Likely gunshots. We found two bullets below him. The body decomposed and, uh...”

She couldn't help the shudder. “I get the picture.”

“May I sit down?”

Cait half rose. “Of course you can! I'm sorry.”

Jane pulled a chair closer to Cait's desk and settled in. “Let's talk about what you saw the day the patio was poured.”

“I told Colin—”

“Tell me.” Her tone was pleasant but implacable.

Resigned, Cait repeated the story, ending with the handprints.

“All right, let's go back. Obviously, you recognized Mr. Hegland immediately.”

“I heard his voice, so I already knew it was him.”

“Tell me what he was wearing, if you can recall.”

Cait opened her mouth to ask what possible difference that made, but she realized the lieutenant was trying to get her to
see
the scene—including the other man.

She closed her eyes and tried to become that girl, crouched behind the fence with one eye to the crack, not even sure why she cared what the two men were up to.

I might not have, if they hadn't been so angry. Or was it tense?

She remembered being a little chilly because it was such early morning. At first she'd just knelt, but finally she'd sat cross-legged on the shaggy grass even though her butt got damp through the denim of her jeans. Funny, she could look down and see her jeans, one of the ratty pairs she wore on weekends. Mom got mad if she wore her school clothes any other time. These had a big rip that allowed her bony knee to poke out.

“That's good,” Jane murmured, and Cait realized she'd been talking out loud.

“Jerry wore khaki trousers and a sweatshirt that he took off not long after I started watching. He kept swiping at his forehead with his forearm. I remember big patches of sweat under his arms and even between his shoulder blades. His hair was kind of wet and poking up. He was really filthy.” She giggled, and it was a little girl's giggle. “They used lots of really bad words. Dad did, too, but Mom always tried to shush him when I was around. Except...” When he was drunk. Then Mom, afraid of him, didn't even try.

“What was his voice like, this other man?”

“Just...a regular voice.” She frowned. “The weird thing about him was that he hadn't dressed for that kind of work. I think he might have had on good slacks and a white shirt and dress shoes. He took off the white shirt, too. He had on an undershirt, you know, just white.
It
was filthy, too, by the time I got there.” She felt dreamy, only idly curious the way a ten-year-old could be. Why had those two men dug such a humongous hole? And how come they were filling it now? Maybe there'd been, like, a pipe leaking or something. She really wanted to know what the boards were for, built like a frame only lying flat on the ground.

“His hair...” She had to hesitate. “I think it was brown. Kind of a medium brown. But he was awfully sweaty, too, so it might have been dark blond. He was...not as big as Jerry. Maybe as tall, but not as wide. More lean. And he wasn't tan like Jerry, so he must not have spent much time outside. His arms were really pale. Like my dad was when he took his shirt off. A lot of the time he had his back to me. I only remember him facing me directly once—” She stiffened, in an echo of her momentary fear that day. “I kind of squirmed and knocked my bike over. It didn't make a lot of noise because it fell on grass, but he swung around and stared. I almost took off.”

It chilled her now, knowing what would have happened if he had come looking.

“Can you see his face, Cait?” Jane asked patiently.

“Yes,” she breathed. “But...I don't know, there wasn't anything special about it. He was kind of ordinary-looking. The one thing I remember is that Jerry seemed to be afraid of him.” Opening her eyes, she thought that over. “
Afraid
isn't the right word. I think the other guy was in charge. Used to being in charge. He expected Jerry to take orders.”

“That's interesting,” the lieutenant said. “So he was dressed as if he'd expected to go into the office that day, even though it was a weekend.”

“Yes.”

“As dirty as he'd gotten, he'd have had to go home and change.”

Cait nodded. “I remember wondering why, if he was going to help his friend, he hadn't dressed in his working-in-the-yard clothes.”

“Because this wasn't planned,” Jane said thoughtfully. “Looking back, how do you read what you saw as tension?”

“They were upset.” She couldn't be sure how she knew with such certainty, but she did. “Really upset. It came out as urgency and an air of violence, but mostly...” She hesitated. “I think they were probably horrified. Freaked. Maybe they'd never killed a man before.”

This shudder made her glance down and see that her arms were crossed and squeezed tight.

“My father was angry a lot,” she said after a minute, with some difficulty. “I didn't know many other men very well. I'd never had a male teacher, and my parents weren't churchgoers. I guess I expected men to be angry. I saw what I expected.”

“But you'd liked Mr. Hegland, when you and your mother spent time with him.”

“He was nice to me,” she corrected. “He bought me some treats. I was a kid—of course I liked that. But I was wary of him.” Yes, that was how she'd describe her caution that had verged on suspicion.

The same way she'd continued to approach men, she thought with shock.

Too bad she'd relaxed her caution where Blake was concerned.

And—why was she letting herself trust Noah? He sometimes radiated anger and menace that should have her quailing but didn't. Because he'd never turned it on her.

That didn't mean he wouldn't. Blake had hidden his propensity for violence, too.
No,
she thought. The thing with Noah was he didn't. She
knew
what kind of man he was. Which allowed her to—mostly—trust him.

And that makes no sense,
she finally concluded.

She realized Jane was studying her, as if speculating on what was going through her head. Cait was embarrassed to realize she'd probably been staring into space for several minutes.

“Would you recognize this man?” Jane asked bluntly.

She found herself shaking her head. “I really doubt it. I have yet to recognize a single other adult I encountered back then. Jerry was a special case, and that was partly because Mom had kept a couple pictures of him. Plus, I guess he was more distinctive-looking. He hadn't changed that much, either. This other guy...” She shrugged. “He could have lost his hair, gained fifty pounds, who knows?”

Jane sighed and closed her notebook. “Well, we have a basic description and we know he was a professional man.”

“Of sorts. He could have worked in a store or sold insurance or something like that.” Cait grimaced. “What if it was Sunday morning, and he'd planned to attend church?”

“But from what you say, he didn't have the muscles of a working man and didn't have the tan to suggest he got out of an office very often.”

“That's true. I'm sorry. I wish I could have been more help.”

“Considering you're trying to remember something that happened eighteen years ago—or is it nineteen?—I'd say you have amazing recall.”