What We May Be: An MMF Romantic Mystery

by Layla Reyne

  “Honest answer?”

  He squeezed her fingers. “Always.”

  She tilted to the side, erasing the distance between them as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Fucking exhausted.”

  The guilt returned and along with it the urge to shield her from the worst of whatever was to come. Never mind she was the one with the sidearm. He looped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her gently. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. Then we’ll sort out where we go from here.”

  He reconsidered—not regretted—his words as soon as they were out. Was he being too presumptuous? He knew what he wanted, what Sean wanted, but what about what Charlie wanted? But as she reached again for his hand and threaded her fingers through his, hope—and more—returned, the intimacy more than their usual casual affection. More like what they used to be. But maybe it was only comfort that she needed, given the enormity of the circumstances, including the fear Charlie voiced. “What if it has to do with Mom?”

  “Then we’ll deal with it. I’m not gonna disappear again. Promise.” Curling his fingers around hers, he lifted their hands and kissed the back of Charlie’s. “But Jeff and Julian had no connection to that night, then or now.”

  “We can’t dismiss the possibility.”

  “In that case, you should be at the Sand Dollar too.”

  “Not if the killer is targeting men—”

  He bumped her chin with their clasped hands, forcing her gaze up. “Charlie.”

  Defiant eyes glared right back. “I’ll consider it.”

  “I need to keep you safe.”

  “You do remember I’m the cop, right?” She smiled softly, and he couldn’t resist unfolding his index finger to trace the corner of it. Charlie’s stuttered breath skated over his knuckles.

  Followed by her lips.

  It was a risk, putting all that was on the line for what could be. A risk he’d avoided taking after the last time Sean had left and he and Charlie had had to dig themselves out of heartbreak and claw their way back to friendship. A risk he shouldn’t take after putting himself out there with Tracy and getting burned again. But damn it, this was Charlie, her eyes darkened, her head tilted invitingly, her warm breath rushing over his lips as her eyelids fluttered shut.

  “Charlotte! You down here?”

  Abel’s shout from around the corner startled them apart. Except for their hands, which remained clasped.

  “Coming!” Charlie called back, then cast him a half-hooded, half-embarrassed look.

  He spared her the latter, standing and pulling her up. “Duty calls, Deputy Henby.”

  She squeezed his fingers with a smile. “You want in on this meeting?”

  “Think I’ll skip this one. Need to catch up on some work.”

  “Can’t say I blame you. It only seems to get worse.”

  She started for the door, but with her hand still in his, he stopped her midstep. “I need to keep you safe too.” With the future potential he’d glimpsed with Sean last night, then with her just now, he needed that more than ever. “For whatever this might be.”

  She lifted his hand and kissed the back of it. “For whatever this might be.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charlie leaned a hip against her desk, making a quick call to Annie while Abel gathered everyone in the conference room.

  After four rings, she was about to hang up and try again when Annie finally answered. “Hey, sis. Sorry about that.” She sounded out of breath, and the background noises weren’t the usual library ones.

  “Everything okay there?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I was just in the laundromat. Dryer’s busted at home again, and of course the only machines open here were the top ones. Why God denied me the extra few inches you got, I’ll never know.”

  Charlie chuckled. “Not how you wanted to spend your afternoon, I’m sure.”

  “Honestly, it’s better than the slower than slow library today.” She dragged out the second slow, and Charlie’s chuckle became a full laugh. “Too nice out. The only folks who came in this morning were those who had to, and they made quick work of it.” A door opened and closed in the background and Annie excused herself, probably stepping out of the way. “How’s Trevor?” she asked once it quieted again. “He texted he was back, but we’ve been playing phone tag since.”

  “Safe and sound.”

  “Oh, thank god.” Annie’s relief carried over the line as did her concern. “How’d he take the news about Julian?”

  “Not well. He’s worried about Tracy.”

  “I was dropping a book off for a patient at the hospital and swung by to check on her. You were right. She didn’t want to talk to me.”

  Charlie wished there was a way to ease the hurt apparent in her sister’s voice. No matter her own opinion of Tracy, she didn’t want Annie to lose a friend. They’d lost enough lately, and it would be a shame for that friendship to have survived Tracy and Trevor’s divorce only to end now. “I’m sorry, Annie. I know you two are close.”

  “She didn’t look good, Charlie. I heard her say the funeral is Thursday. Are you going?”

  “I’ll watch from a squad car. You?”

  “I’m going to try to make it.”

  Charlie wasn’t surprised. Her sister was fiercely loyal that way. “I’ll be your backup,” she teased, hoping to lighten the mood but also wanting Annie to know she was more than ready to come to her defense if Tracy caused a scene.

  “Thank you,” Annie said, and Charlie was glad to hear the relief again. “Was there something else you needed?”

  “I was hoping you could swing by Trevor’s place and pack him an overnight bag.” He’d had a change of clothes leftover from the trip to Apex, but she couldn’t be sure he had another, and she knew Annie had a key to his place, same as her.

  “Why?”

  “We’re keeping him in protective custody.”

  “Why?” her sister repeated.

  “We’re taking precautions since he’s connected to both victims.”

  “Isn’t that kind of extreme?”

  Charlie cringed, then ran a hand down her face to wipe it away. This was not a conversation she wanted to have over the phone, especially from the station. It wasn’t a conversation she ever wanted to have with Annie, but she had to. Her sister didn’t know the truth about their mother’s death, and finding the right time to share it was proving impossible. Things had been so strained after the funeral that Charlie hadn’t wanted to throw another log onto the fire. Hell, at the time, she was still processing the letter—the confession—herself. Annie’s mood had improved since, and so had things between them, and Charlie hadn’t wanted to disrupt that. And now with the move and the potential job, things between them were more like a roller coaster. Conversations like the one now were pleasant; the one the other night at Annie’s, not so much. She was having a harder time than usual getting a read on her sister, but would there ever be a good time to have this conversation? Annie deserved the truth, and Charlie would rather she hear it from her than anyone else. “I’ll explain everything, I promise, but for right now, I need to focus on keeping Trevor safe.”

  “Of course. You love him.”

  “I do,” she said. A year ago she would have qualified that with as family, as a friend, but after the past month, all her caveats where Trevor was concerned were on shakier ground. Only one reason for that.

  As if hearing her thoughts, Annie asked, “Is this about Sean?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “He’s back, and things are different.”

  “But also the same?”

  “I think his being here is reminding us both how we felt all those years ago.”

  “What happens when Sean leaves again?”

  That was the million-dollar question. Would she and Trevor crash and burn again? Did they have to with Sean in DC too? They were all leaving, yet all going to the same place. A first. But if they gave it a shot, what happened years from now if something happened to on
e of them?

  “Hey, sis,” Annie said. “Where’d you go?”

  Charlie sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Trying to find the answers.”

  “Good thing you’re an awesome detective. The FBI would be lucky to have you.”

  The smile in Annie’s voice both pleased and confused Charlie. “You mean that? You seemed upset with me the other night. About DC and the job.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I’m doing better since everything, but sometimes the emotions still get the better of me. I got scared about possibly losing you too.”

  Like she had Mom, Dad, and Cal.

  “Annie—”

  “But we can’t let fear hold us back. That’s what my therapist says. We move forward, the best we can.”

  Her upbeat certainty helped put Charlie at ease. As did Maggie cutting across the bullpen toward the conference room and flagging her down with a stack of papers. Time to go to work, to be the detective Annie was proud of. “Speaking of moving forward, Maggie just got here and looks like maybe she has something helpful on this case.”

  “Go,” Annie said. “I’ll finish up here, then I’ll swing by Trevor’s and throw some stuff in a bag.”

  “That’d be great. He’s at the Sand Dollar.”

  “I’ll get it to him.”

  “Thanks, A.”

  “Sure thing, sis. Bye for now.”

  Charlie ended the call and slumped in partial relief. At least that conversation had gone well. The nugget of relief evaporated, though, at seeing Sean following in Maggie’s footsteps. Clean-shaven and dressed in a dark suit, she couldn’t deny how well he still wore one.

  The case, Henby, focus!

  If she wanted any future with Trevor and possibly Sean too, she had to solve this case and get them all on the other side of it—alive.

  Charlie entered the conference room where Sean and Maggie were gathered with the rest of her team. “Talk to me.”

  The ME slid a folder across the table. “Tox screen results on Julian confirmed Diprivan. Same as Professor Marshall.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Clean. He took a shower when he got home, so no fluids or fibers. Unfortunately, I don’t expect much more.”

  “Diprivan is a controlled substance?”

  Maggie nodded and pushed another document across the table. “I called the manufacturer and got a list of all the recent orders in Hanover and the county.”

  Sean peered at the document over her shoulder. “There’s only one buyer. HU Med.”

  Charlie’s head shot up, her gaze split between Abel and Maggie. “You don’t think?”

  “It’s an anesthetic,” Maggie said.

  Sean snagged the list and reviewed it more closely. “What am I missing?”

  “Tracy Hirsch is a surgical nurse at HU Med,” Abel told him.

  “Wasn’t she on shift at the hospital when Julian was killed?”

  Charlie pointed at Jaylen. “Call the hospital and double-check that. Now.”

  “On it.”

  He ducked out of the conference room as Sean tossed out another question. “Does Tracy have any connection to Jeff?”

  “None that I know of. But Trevor does.”

  “Revenge?” Abel speculated. “A frame-up?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past her,” Maggie said. “Especially if she’d found out what her ass of a husband was up to.”

  Diego rolled his eyes toward the ceiling as if asking God for patience. When he righted his gaze, Charlie laughed. “What else you got?”

  “Another possible lead.” He withdrew his phone and tapped the screen, glancing down at his notes then back up. “We caught up with Sarah Barnett yesterday outside her French class. The lecturer, Beth Martin, let us use her classroom to talk.”

  “Go on.”

  “Sarah called us about an hour ago. She had a class in the same building this morning, and Professor Martin was waiting for her afterward.”

  Sean rested against the edge of the conference table. “That’s odd.”

  “Not necessarily,” Diego replied. “Beth, by Sarah’s own account, seems to genuinely care about her students. Sarah didn’t think much of it at first.”

  “I’m sensing a but,” Abel said.

  “But today, Beth asked more pointed questions. Not the how-are-you sort but more the what-did-the-officers-ask-you-about sort.”

  “Female. Connected to HU.” Sean raised two fingers, then a third halfway. “She look like someone who could maneuver Jeff and Julian?”

  “About Charlie’s height and build.”

  Sean finished raising the third finger.

  Charlie went for four. “Any connection to Jeff or Julian?”

  “We’re looking into it now.”

  “Did Beth know about Sarah and Julian?”

  “We asked Sarah,” Diego said. “She didn’t tell Beth about Julian, but the professor did confiscate her phone for texting in class a couple weeks ago.”

  “Let me guess,” Abel said. “Pictures?”

  Diego nodded. “Seems to be a trend with kids these days.”

  Jaylen reappeared at the door to the conference room. “Tracy was on shift according to the scheduling nurse, but I think we should go down there and talk with others who were on that night. See if there are any irregularities.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Abel said. “Throw around some weight.”

  “And let’s dig into Beth Martin,” Charlie added. “Seems a more likely connection than any political one.”

  “I’ll get started on that,” Diego said.

  Her team activated, she thought how best to use Sean and his resources. “Can you get your hacker on Martin’s phone records?”

  “Did someone say hacker?”

  Charlie spun toward the Texas accent that boomed from the doorway… and rocked back on her heels. The voice wasn’t wholly unfamiliar—she’d spoken to Agent Marshall on the phone twice—but it was louder and deeper in person, not crackling over a patchy line. And Agent Marshall himself looked nothing like what she’d expected. He was spindly Jefferson Marshall’s son and a cyber legat for the FBI. She’d pictured a likewise spindly agent, rumpled and overworked, who lived on Red Bull and nothing else. At no time had she pictured a man as big and broad as Abel, in his midforties with bronze skin, a sprinkling of silver in his dark hair, and flecks of amber in his dark eyes. Add to that the wide-brimmed white hat and pointed-toe boots, the worn Levi’s and rust-colored Longhorns T-shirt, and Emmitt Marshall shouted cowboy.

  Nothing about him shouted hacker.

  More surprising than the agent’s appearance, though, was Sean’s reception to his arrival. Barreling past Charlie, he practically launched himself at Agent Marshall.

  Marshall stood firm and returned the fierce hug, slapping Sean’s back. “It’s good to see you, Hale.”

  Sean drew back, one corner of his mouth lifted. “Missed you too, though I gotta say”—he patted the other man’s T-shirt covered chest—“not exactly funeral attire.”

  Agent Marshall straightened Sean’s coat and tie like he’d done it countless times before. “You’re fancy enough for the both of us.”

  His voice was rumbly and affectionate, and Charlie suddenly felt like an intruder. Like the roller coaster her life had been on lately had taken another unexpected turn.

  Thank fuck for Maggie, who had absolutely no problem butting into the agents’ reunion. “Umm, Sean, care to introduce us to your friend?”

  “Pardon, ma’am,” Agent Marshall said, beating Sean to the introductions. He removed his hat and shot Maggie a grin. “Emmitt Marshall.” And damn if Maggie didn’t put a hand to the table to catch herself.

  Charlie bit back a laugh that died when Agent Marshall’s dark eyes landed on her. A warm smile stretched across his ruggedly handsome face. “You must be Charlie.” He crossed the room, a hand outstretched. “I’ve heard a lot about you. All of it good.”

  Her gaze shot to Sean, who ducked h
is chin but not before she saw the streaks of red hit his cheekbones. Agent Marshall’s hand closed around hers, bringing her back to the man directly in front of her. She cleared her throat. “Agent Marshall,” she said. “Good to put a face to the voice.”

  “That’s enough of that Agent shit,” he said with a wink. “Just Marsh, please, and tell me how I can help.” He jutted a thumb over his shoulder at Sean. “Should I start by getting that one in line?”

  She lifted a brow. “You think you can?”

  His dark eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, I know I can, sweetheart.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Standing by the cemetery gate, Sean eyed his friend who strode across the parking lot, somehow making the black suit coat over his orange T-shirt and jeans work. Maybe it was the long legs and broad shoulders. Or maybe it was the black cowboy hat that pulled it all together. Or maybe it was just the Emmitt Marshall swagger. Didn’t mean Sean wasn’t gonna give him shit about it. “At least you swapped out the hat and put on a jacket. Though how it took you a half hour to do that little is a mystery.”

  “One, I had a chess game to win. And two, it’s hot as balls here. I don’t want to hear it.”

  Sean didn’t disagree, especially given the extra humidity from that morning’s rain, but Marsh didn’t get to use that excuse. “Please. You grew up on a ranch in Texas.”

  “And I spent twenty years in the fucking desert. Enough’s enough.” He billowed his T-shirt as Sean led him into the cemetery. “I get why my best friend settled in San Francisco.”

  “I thought that had more to do with his husband than the weather,” Sean tossed over his shoulder. “What was it you said? Where Holt goes Brax goes?”

  “Something like that.” Marsh dipped his chin, hiding his face behind the brim of his hat. “You know where we’re going?”

  “Yep.” He’d arrived early, coming directly from the station while Marsh had swung by the motel to “change.” Sean had apologized to the crypt keeper for the other night and asked where Jeff was being buried. That advance work meant he could stay on point now, not letting Marsh off the hook. “They’re good? Your friends?”