Read Home Before Midnight Online
Authors: Virginia Kantra
Tags: #Contemporary Romance, #mobi, #Romantic Suspense, #epub, #Fiction
Home Before Midnight (29 page)
“Yeah, but why you?”
He’d asked Bailey the same question when she’d sat across his mother’s kitchen table, her spine straight and her eyes bruised.
Why did you come here tonight?
Why did you come here tonight?
And been disappointed by the raw honesty of her answer.
I didn’t have anywhere else to go.
I didn’t have anywhere else to go.
It wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy Steve.
But it would do for Walt.
“Because I’m in charge of the investigation,” he said. “I’ll see you at ten.”
Walt snorted. “Suit yourself. Just don’t expect any overtime.”
Steve cradled the receiver very carefully and stood in the hallway taking deep breaths. He needed this job. He wanted this job. He just hated working for Clegg.
“Where are you going?” Gabrielle asked.
Steve looked up and saw the reason he had to put up with Walt Clegg until the chief’s retirement peering through the spindles on the stairs.
“I’ve got to drive to the lab in Raleigh,” he said. “Want to come?”
Gabrielle looked skeptical. “To the lab?”
“I’ve got to drop something off at the lab,” Steve said. Bailey’s voice played in his head.
I wish just once he’d said to me, “Hey, honey, State’s playing Florida this afternoon. Sit down and watch the game with me.”
“I thought we’d stop by Krispy Kreme, grab some donuts for breakfast.”
I wish just once he’d said to me, “Hey, honey, State’s playing Florida this afternoon. Sit down and watch the game with me.”
“I thought we’d stop by Krispy Kreme, grab some donuts for breakfast.”
“We can buy donuts here.”
“Not hot off the line. When I was in high school, we used to drive up there on Friday nights after football games, four or six of us piled into a truck, cruising to see if that ‘hot’ sign was flashing in front of the bakery.”
“You drove to Raleigh for donuts?”
“Hot glazed donuts.” Steve smiled at the memory, and then at his daughter. “You want some?”
“I guess.”
“Go get your shoes on.”
She ran for her room.
Bailey was right,
Steve thought. It wasn’t enough.
Steve thought. It wasn’t enough.
But it was a start.
“ARE you sure he killed himself?” Macon asked over the phone.
Regan stood in her mother’s kitchen, her bare feet curling from the cold tile, listening to a lawnmower from several yards away.
She shuddered. “Of course I’m sure.”
What did he think, she’d shot Paul herself?
And if he thought that, what would the police think? “What should I do?” she asked.
“Call 911.”
“You’re my mother’s lawyer.”
You had sex with me last night, you bastard.
“And the best you can come up with is, ‘Call 911’?”
You had sex with me last night, you bastard.
“And the best you can come up with is, ‘Call 911’?”
“What do you want from me, Regan?” Macon said, his voice pinched. Patient.
She wanted him to be here. Her father was dead, her mother was gone, her brother was too messed up to make it through the fucking funeral, and she was alone in the house with a dead body. Somebody should be here for her, damn it.
“I want you to come over.”
“This isn’t a good time for me,” he said. “You really should let the police handle this.”
“But they’ll want to talk to me.”
“Oh, I’m sure they will.”
“What should I do? What should I say?”
“Don’t touch anything,” he said.
That was such lame advice. Such impersonal, insulting, lame-ass advice.
Regan gripped the receiver tight. “That’s not what you said last night.”
There was a long, satisfying pause.
“I don’t think we should bring up last night,” Macon said.
Not quite so impersonal now, you son of a bitch.
Not quite so impersonal now, you son of a bitch.
“No? Then you better get your ass over here,” Regan said. “Because I’m not talking to the police without a lawyer present, and I’m calling the police now.”
“THESE are good donuts,” Gabrielle said, licking icing off her fingers.
“The best.” Steve passed the white-and-green bakery box across to the passenger seat.
Gabrielle selected another hot glazed. “Grandma says donuts aren’t a good breakfast.”
“Your grandmother likes oatmeal,” Steve said, and Gabrielle grinned. “Now, your grandfather liked donuts. Remember I told you how we used to drive down here in high school?”
Gabrielle nodded.
“Well, sometimes we didn’t make it home until really late. After midnight. But as I long as I left Grandpa a box of donuts on the kitchen table, he didn’t ground me for breaking my curfew.”
His daughter’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Of course, I was older than you. Much, much older.” He didn’t want her getting any ideas.
She took another bite. “Does Bailey like donuts?”
Uh oh.
His daughter had ideas, all right. Not about breaking curfew, but other, equally dangerous ideas.
His daughter had ideas, all right. Not about breaking curfew, but other, equally dangerous ideas.
Steve sipped his coffee, buying time. “Probably. Why?”
Her shoulder lifted in a shrug. He recognized the gesture as his own. “Maybe next time she could come with us.”
“Why?” he repeated.
“I like her.” Gabrielle’s gaze slid to meet his. “Don’t you like her?”
He did. He liked Bailey’s intelligence and quiet efficiency, her loyalty and self-deprecating humor. He caught himself thinking about her at odd moments, the clean lines and angles of her body, the way she tucked her hair behind her ears, her wide smile lighting her thin face.
He thought about her a lot.
His preoccupation could have been a problem. It was certainly a distraction. But he was a grown man, with a grown man’s needs and an adult’s awareness. He could explore this new attraction, enjoy it even, without imagining it had to lead to a permanent relationship. He wasn’t a lonely, impressionable nine-year-old girl. He had his feelings and the situation under control.
It was important to keep control.
To protect Gabrielle.
“That wouldn’t be a good idea,” he said.
Gabrielle twisted in her seat. “Why not?”
He eyed her uneasily. Bailey said he should make time to listen to his daughter. But what was he supposed to do when she kept asking questions?
Keep it simple, he decided. Keep it truthful. Most interview subjects incriminated themselves when they elaborated on the truth.
“Because I’m not looking to get involved with anybody right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re doing fine on our own.”
Better, anyway.
He had to believe that. Inspired, he added, “I want to spend my time with you.”
Better, anyway.
He had to believe that. Inspired, he added, “I want to spend my time with you.”
“Right,” said Gabrielle.
The flatness in her tone shocked him. “Gabby . . .”
She pulled the bakery box toward her and opened it. “It’s okay,” she said to the donuts. “I just miss Mommy. I miss being a family.”
He was shaken to the heart. “Sweetheart . . .”
He didn’t know what to say. He watched a tear squeeze between her eyelashes and streak her cheek and didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t take away her pain. He couldn’t give her back her mother.
Moving the box to the back, he reached across the gear shift and gathered his daughter to him, all stiff shoulders and bony knees and streaming eyes.
You can’t solve every problem. Sometimes the best you can do is share it.
His own eyes stung. Pressure built in his chest and burned his throat.
“I miss her, too,” he whispered against his baby’s silky hair, and he held her while she cried.
This is what she’d been missing. What they’d both been missing. For once, he didn’t offer promises or solutions. Only comfort.
And maybe comfort was all Gabrielle needed, because her eyes dried quickly. Her grip on his T-shirt eased.
Gratitude filled him, for this chance and for the woman who had urged it on him. For Bailey, who claimed not to know anything about parenting.
Who didn’t want to spend her life in Stokesville.
He frowned.
Gabrielle sniffled and rubbed her face against his shirt. “Is that why you don’t want to invite Bailey to come with us?”
The truth,
Steve reminded himself.
Steve reminded himself.
“It’s trickier than that, sweetheart.” He found a clean paper napkin for her to blow her nose. “She might not want to come.”
“But you could ask.”
“I could,” he acknowledged cautiously.
She might even say yes.
It had been a long time for him, but he could still gauge a woman’s interest. Her desire.
He and Bailey Wells had engaged in complicated mental foreplay for almost a week. Last night the tension building between them had erupted in a kiss, dark, thrilling, raw.
Not a situation he was comfortable with. Not a memory he could entertain with his daughter sitting beside him.
Gabrielle.
He needed to think about her. About the risk of letting her get too attached to another woman who would leave her. Leave them both.
His cell phone vibrated. Senses prickling, he stared at the unfamiliar number.
“ ’S okay,” Gabrielle told him, swiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I’m okay.”
Only partly reassured, he flipped the phone open. “Burke.”
“Oh, Lieutenant Burke, thank goodness I reached you.” The voice was female and familiar.
His gut tightened. “Who is this?”
“Dotty. Dotty Wells. Bailey’s mother? I found your card on her bed.”
The tightness constricted into slippery knots. “Where is she? Is she all right?”
“She’s at the police station.”
Worry and fury leaped in him like fire. He’d told her to wait for him, damn it. His voice cool, he repeated, “What happened? Is she all right?”
“Paul Ellis is dead. Shot. The police are questioning Bailey.”
FOURTEEN
H
E could help her. Would help her. But only after he learned the truth, and only if he kept his cool.
E could help her. Would help her. But only after he learned the truth, and only if he kept his cool.
The chief waved him to a chair. Steve ignored it, jamming his hands into his pockets, pacing a line to the file cabinet and back.
Not so cool, after all. But if he couldn’t move, he’d explode.
“Who found the body?”
Walt Clegg drew in his chin at Steve’s tone, but he answered readily enough. “The stepdaughter. Regan.”
“When?”
“Call came in around seven-thirty.”
Right after his own conversation with the chief this morning.
You think you’re the only one who can conduct an investigation around here?
You think you’re the only one who can conduct an investigation around here?
“You should have called me,” Steve said, keeping his voice even with effort.
“Why? You were on your way to Raleigh.” Walt rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Though I guess I could have saved you the trip.”
Anger edged under the worry, a thin, sharp blade. “You’re not taking me off the investigation.”
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