Minutes to Kill (14 page)

“Are you ready?” Grant asked.

Lee nodded. The color had returned to his lips, but his body was trembling.

“Can you get on my back?” Grant asked. “It’s the easiest way to carry you.”

“I guess so.” Lee’s voice shook. Hannah helped.

They trudged through the mud. It took them a full hour to travel the single mile to the logging road. The Colonel waited in the SUV for Grant to load Lee into the passenger seat, then he checked the splint. “Nice job, Grant. What the hell happened?”

“I slipped.” Lee rested his head on the window.

The rest of the kids piled their packs in the cargo area and climbed into the backseat. Sitting down never felt so good to Hannah. Her leg muscles went lax.

“I should have canceled the trip. The weather turned out much worse than predicted,” the Colonel said in a rare moment of self-doubt. “But you all reacted well. I’m proud of the way you handled yourselves out there. You worked as a team, and you used your heads to get out of a bad situation.” His eyes caught Hannah’s in the rearview mirror. “But maybe now you see why women don’t belong in combat. If Grant hadn’t been there, you couldn’t have carried Lee out.”

Mac couldn’t have done it either,
Hannah thought, but she kept her mouth closed.

“Hannah would have figured something out,” Grant said.

But their father didn’t respond. There was no arguing with the Colonel.

“You could have called for help. A rescue team would have come and gotten you.” Anger colored Brody’s statement.

Hannah shrugged. “None of us even thought about it. We were taught to take action, and we did. We handled it fine. Dad trained us to operate as a team. I guess he did a good job of it.”

“No offense, but your father sounds a little psycho,” Brody said.

“No offense taken.” The memory used to make her angry, but now that Lee was gone, it just depressed her. “I pushed him to include me on all those survival training weekends. But that was the only time he spent with any of us, teaching us to be good little rangers. He was supposed to be a general. He wasn’t cut out to be a father. Looking back on it now, I realize how crazy it all was.”

“What about your mother?”

“She was the one who held the family together. A strong woman, but very traditional. She stayed home while we played in the woods. I don’t think she had any idea what the trips were actually like.” Pain wrapped around Hannah’s heart. “She was diagnosed with stage four cancer during my freshman year of college. She faded quickly. I took the second semester off to nurse her through hospice. She was gone before summer.”

“I’m sorry.” Brody’s voice grated with empathy.

“The four of us kids were close, growing up. We stuck together like a troop. But after Mom died, the Colonel fell apart. Her death fractured our family. Grant’s career was advancing. I went back to school. Mac ran with a bad crowd. Lee did his best to be the family touchstone, but the rest of us wouldn’t cooperate.” Guilt sandbagged Hannah. She and Grant and Mac could have tried harder. “What about your family? Grant said you were in the military?”

“Just four years to pay for college. I appreciated the training, but the army wasn’t for me,” Brody said. “I came home, joined the Boston PD, got married.”

Hold on
. “You were married?”

“Not for very long.” His fingers opened and closed on the steering wheel, as if he’d been holding it too tightly. “A few years into my career in Boston, I was involved in a shooting at a convenience store. It was all clean and justified, but I had some . . . issues relating to the incident.”

“Post-traumatic stress?”

Brody hesitated. “That, and my partner froze, putting me in a very bad situation.”

“No.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He nodded. “I was shot in the chest. I was wearing a vest, so I wasn’t hurt, but it’s hard to walk into dangerous situations with no confidence in your partner.”

“Did you report it?”

“No. But he retired shortly after that. I think shame drove him off the force.” The windshield fogged, and Brody turned on the defroster. “I eventually went for help, and it got better.”

Hannah could hear the
but
coming. “I hope you got a new, better partner.”

“I did. Unfortunately, while I’d been wallowing around in depression, my wife was having an affair with her coworker.”

“What a bitch!” Hannah covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. That just slipped out.” She hadn’t had many relationships in her life, because she took commitment seriously. Hearts should not be traded lightly. And the thought that Brody’s ex had trod on his made her angry and sad. “I can’t imagine turning your back on the one person you’re supposed to support.”

“No. You wouldn’t.” Brody laughed. “Long story short, we got a divorce, and I moved out here for a fresh start.”

“I was trying to figure out why anyone would move
to
Scarlet Falls.”

“I like it here.” Brody pulled into Grant’s driveway. “Doesn’t traveling all the time get old?”

Yes.
But sadly, Hannah doubted she was settle-down material.

He carried the dog inside. Hannah was tempted to ask him to stay the rest of the night, but that wouldn’t be fair. She wasn’t here to stay. She wouldn’t treat him with the same disregard as his ex. A good man like Brody deserved total honesty.

Instead, she set the alarm and slept on the couch next to the dog. Again. As she closed her eyes, all she could think of was that it was three a.m.—well past midnight. Tuesday had arrived. Whatever end was coming to Jewel would happen today.

Chapter Seventeen

Perched on the edge of the exam table, Hannah shifted her position at the knock on the door. Paper crinkled under her jeans-clad butt. She checked her watch. This was taking forever.

Dr. Martin’s white lab coat topped a pair of tailored gray slacks. She scanned papers stacked on a clipboard. “I have your test results.”

“And?”

She tucked a strand of long brown hair behind her ear. “The computer program generates instant feedback.”

“Well? How did I do?”

The doctor sat down on the swivel stool. She flipped through several sheets, then lifted her gaze to meet Hannah’s. Her brown eyes were serious. “For a successful attorney, you have terrible short-term memory, slow cognitive function, and your balance is off. You said you feel perfectly normal, but that’s obviously not true. Now why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

Hannah blinked. “Excuse me?”

The doctor set her clipboard down. She pulled her frameless glasses off her face and set them on top of the clipboard. “The test results don’t lie, Hannah, and exhibiting symptoms less than a week following a concussion is perfectly normal. No one suffers a brain trauma and is
fine
a few days later. I can’t help you unless you’re honest with me.”

“My hearing is still a little fuzzy on one side, but other than that, I am fine.” Hannah craned her neck to see the paperwork. “Those results can’t be right.”

“How about sleeping? More or less than usual.”

“Maybe a little more,” Hannah admitted. But she had been working long hours for the last month. Being tired wasn’t unusual after she’d finished a major deal.

“Dizziness?”

“None.”

Dr. Martin lifted a skeptical brow. “What about reading?”

“No problems,” Hannah said. “When can I get back to work?”

“Every individual is different. Some people heal quickly. Others might take a few months.”

“Months? I don’t have months.” Hannah’s head had felt fine before, but now pain spiked through her temple.

“Relax.” The doctor’s tone sharpened. “Getting upset will only make it worse. This is going to take some time, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

And watch my career go down the drain.
“But I feel fine, and I can’t take months off from work. I’m supposed to be in London next week. Isn’t there a medication that would speed things up?”

The doctor sighed. “No. If you don’t take care of yourself now, you will pay in the long run.”

“I really need to get back to work.”

“That isn’t going to happen,” Dr. Martin said. “I want you to come back in four weeks for a reevaluation.”

Four
weeks . . . How would she cope with four weeks of inactivity? Royce said her job wasn’t in jeopardy, but other associates were there to jump in and handle cases while Hannah was sidelined.

Hannah turned on her voice memo app and recorded the doctor’s instructions. Then she zoned out while the doctor expounded on the long-term consequences from repeated blows to the head. Hannah was focused on the here and now.

Four weeks was a long time. Hannah needed to be busy. The more time she had to rest, the more time she could contemplate Jewel’s fate and relive the terrors of last spring. The absolute last thing she wanted was more time on her hands.

Sitting in the neurologist’s waiting room, Brody checked his e-mail for the fourth time, then leafed through a six-month-old issue of
Time
magazine.
What was taking so long?
Hannah had been called into the exam room over an hour before.

The door opened. Her face was pinched and strained, her eyes clouded with pain—and disappointment.

She pulled her mouth into a tight smile. “I’m sorry that took so long.”

“Are you done?” He glanced back at the sliding glass window that separated the reception station from the waiting room.

Nodding, Hannah crossed to the coat tree.

Brody reached over her shoulder and lifted her jacket off the hook. He held it open so she could slide her arms into the sleeves. After a slight hesitation, she did.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“Yes.” She adjusted her collar and headed for the door. “Can I tell you about it later? I have a splitting headache.”

“Sure. I thought doctors were supposed to make you feel better.” Brody opened the door.

“That makes two of us.”

They took the elevator to the ground floor. “Do you want to wait here while I get the car?”

They’d left his sedan in a garage two blocks over.

“No. I’d love some fresh air.”

“We’re in Manhattan. Good luck finding any of that.”

Hannah’s short laugh eased the heaviness in Brody’s chest. Outside, the sidewalks were crowded. They maneuvered around the line for a hot dog cart, Hannah threading through pedestrian traffic with the confidence of a person who spent a lot of time in cities. Her long legs had no trouble keeping up with his. A guy stepped out of a doorway directly in front of Hannah. Without breaking stride, Brody angled his body and shouldered the jerk out of the way. The man stumbled, then righted himself with a self-righteous shout of “Asshole!”

Hannah glanced over at him. Over the pain in her eyes, humor glinted.

Brody lifted a casual shoulder. “He should have been watching where he was going. He could have knocked you over.”

“I can handle myself, but thank you,” she said.

“I know you
can
handle yourself, but you shouldn’t
have
to.”

“I’m not disagreeing. The guy was rude. Grant would have
accidentally
put an elbow into his face.”

“Your brother’s temper is legendary in the department.”

The cool air, exhaust-scented as it was, seemed to perk her up. They took the elevator to the fifth floor of the parking deck and crossed the stained concrete to Brody’s SUV. He opened the passenger door. Hannah flashed him an inquisitive half smile as she took her seat. He rounded the car and slid behind the wheel.

“Something wrong?”

“No. I’m just not accustomed to having my coat held and doors opened,” she said. “Not that I don’t like it. It’s charming.”

“What can I say? I was raised by my grandparents.” Brody steered the car down the spiraling ramp.

“Where did you grow up?”

He lowered his window and punched out with his credit card. “Boston. My parents died in a small-plane crash when I was little.”

“I’m sorry.” Hannah reclined her seat a few inches.

“I was only three. I don’t remember them.”

“Do your grandparents still live in Boston?”

“No. Gran had a stroke nine years ago. Granddad didn’t last six months without her.”

“That’s sad and sweet at the same time.”

Brody drove out of town. Listening to the traffic report, he exited the city via the Lincoln Tunnel, threaded his way through North Jersey to I-87. Once they were on the interstate, the highway opened up. “I don’t miss city traffic.”

Hannah didn’t respond. Brody glanced over. Her eyes were closed, but even sleeping, she looked stressed. He bet the news from the doctor wasn’t what she had wanted to hear.

He turned on the radio but kept the volume low as he tuned his satellite radio to a classic rock station. Three hours later, at six o’clock, darkness had fallen, and Hannah was still asleep, her head lolling against the seat rest. The trip into New York had taken its toll. He couldn’t imagine the toll a six-hour round-trip train commute would have had on her.

He passed the green sign for Scarlet Falls and eased onto the exit. The car bounced over seams in the blacktop. Hannah jerked awake.

“We’re almost home,” Brody said.

She blinked and swept a hand through her short blond locks. It settled back into place as if it knew to obey orders. “God, I’m sorry. I slept through the whole drive.”

“You were tired. I’m glad you slept. That was the whole point of me driving you.”

But Hannah frowned. Obviously, she wasn’t used to letting anyone take care of her.

“Are you going to tell me what the doctor actually said?”

Hannah stretched. “I need coffee.”

“You need food. We skipped lunch.”

She pressed the pads of her fingers to her closed eyelids. “I’m not hungry.”

“Headache?”

“No. The nap cleared that up.”

“What then?”

“I need coffee.”

“Seriously. How are you? You looked a little rough coming out of the doctor’s office.”

“You are persistent.”

He smiled.

Hannah sighed. “I failed the cognitive test, and my balance is off, but considering it’s only been a few days since I was knocked down, the doctor says I’m recovering as she’d expect.”

“But?”

“Regardless of what her tests said, I feel fine, and she still won’t clear me for work.”

“Oh.”

“She won’t even retest me for another month. I was supposed to be in London next week working with one of the firm’s largest clients,” she said.

“Were you looking forward to that?” Brody wasn’t sure how he felt about her, but the thought of her leaving Scarlet Falls depressed him. Hannah was the first woman to interest him in a long, long time. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she threw him a curveball. The first time he’d met her, he’d thought her arrogant, aloof, and cold. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. She’d grieved her brother and stood by her family, proving to be smart and loyal, stubborn to a fault. In a heartbeat, she could shift from sharp corporate attorney to affectionate aunt. When a man had attempted to snatch her little nephew, Hannah had chased the scumbag. Barefoot. With snow on the ground. Her foot had been bleeding, and she hadn’t even noticed.

Complex
was the only word for Hannah. She was a puzzle he wanted to solve but not in any rush. He wanted to take his time and get to know all her layers. The strength of that desire surprised him. His ex-wife only had two layers. At the first challenge, her pretty veneer had peeled back faster than steamed wallpaper.

For a long minute, Hannah simply stared out the window. “I thought so, but now I’m not so sure. I couldn’t wait to get out of Vegas.”

Brody brightened. “You won’t lose your job?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Royce won’t fire me. I’m not worried about that.”

“Then what’s the problem? Take some time off. Make sure you’re completely recovered. You don’t want to go back at less than one hundred percent, right? Poor performance wouldn’t help your career, and it’s not worth risking your health.”

“It doesn’t look like I have an option.” She glanced at him. Her brow lowered. “I don’t back away from anything easily. The Colonel raised me to identify my objectives and devote my efforts to achieving them, to work around, over, or through obstacles. All my life I’ve had to scratch and fight for what I wanted. Now I’m not sure what I want, but the instinct to do battle is still there. Without a goal, I feel lost.” She flushed and blinked away, as if embarrassed by her revelation.

“How about if I give you a task?” He eased the car around a curve. “Decide what you want for dinner.”

“Coffee.” She arched a challenging brow.

“I’ll stop for coffee if you tell me what you want to eat.”

She shot him a dirty look. “You suck.”

He laughed at the childish retort. He liked this less-formal, more-familiar Hannah. “If you’re tired, let’s pick up food, and I’ll cook something.”

“Can you manage steak?”

That wasn’t what he’d expected her to choose. “Yes, but most women ask for salad.”

“Salad isn’t a meal.” Hannah’s face scrunched. “I could really go for a steak, rare, and potatoes any way you can make them. You’ll have to cook at Grant’s house, though. The dog has been alone all day.”

“I can do that.”

They stopped at a grocery store a few miles outside town.

“Coffee,” Hannah whimpered, making a beeline for the beverage counter.

Brody selected two hefty sirloins and a bag of potatoes. Hannah appeared at his elbow, bliss on her face as she took a long sip. She licked her lips. Distracting.

“How about a vegetable?” he asked.

Hannah gave him a sour-lemon face. “Not for me.”

He grabbed a bag of string beans. “They won’t kill you.”

“I have no proof of that.”

He paid for the groceries, and they went back to the car. Brody’s step was lighter at the prospect of an evening with a smart woman, a quiet dinner, and some entertaining conversation. A man couldn’t ask for much more.

His phone buzzed halfway home. Unfortunately, he recognized the number. The Pub.
Chet
. So much for balancing on the edge of the wagon.

Brody glanced over at Hannah. “I’m sorry. I have to answer this.”

“Work?”

“Not entirely.” It felt very personal, but there was no protecting anyone’s privacy tonight. If Brody didn’t answer the call, the Pub’s bartender would have to call police dispatch. Pushing a button on his steering wheel, he answered the call.

“Detective McNamara?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Todd down at The Pub. We have a situation,” Todd said.

“What is it?” Brody’s appetite dissipated. If Todd was calling Brody directly, Chet was involved.