Holding the Truth

by Calle J. Brookes

  That was all that seemed to work. Nikkie Jean scrambled over the back seat.

  Bai—I need a second set of hands.”

  Bailey followed her friend into the small economy sedan.

  The kids were crying.

  Nikkie Jean passed a baby no older than Liam into her hands. He was still in his infant carrier.

  She handed him to the waiting paramedic.

  Next was a little elf of a girl who was crying for her mommy. The child clung to Bailey’s neck for a moment.

  But it was her big brother who concerned Bailey.

  Hands were there to take the little boy when she and Nikkie Jean were finally able to get him free of the seatbelt and the door panel that had crumbled almost on him.

  He’d wakened and stared at her. Even smiled at her, even though he was so obviously terrified.

  She’d never forget that little boy.

  Or the long hours that happened next.

  Chapter 50

  Charlie stayed hidden. If someone saw him, he was bound to be recognized. But eventually, it was his turn. He couldn’t hide there forever. He had to get his truck out of the ditch. He’d been lucky. As soon as those damned ambulances moved, he’d have a clear shot out.

  A small woman with glasses and hospital scrubs saw him first. She still had ID badges from the hospital hanging around her neck. “Sir! Are you hurt somewhere?”

  Charlie was, but he wasn’t about to say anything stupid. He just shook his head. “Just waiting for the tow truck to get me back on the road, honey.”

  “I’m not sure how that’s going to happen. Are you sure you’re not hurt?” She had blood on her, dark-black stains showing in the low light of so many headlights. And sirens. She was a small thing, with a sweet face and bug-like glasses.

  No one was watching her. If she recognized him, did he have it in him to do something to her?

  Charlie didn’t like the thought but every time he spoke to someone now that type of thinking dominated.

  Charlie didn’t know what he was capable of anymore.

  “No, ma’am.” He deliberately made his voice and vocabulary less cultured than what it normally was. The girl hadn’t recognized him, at least.

  But the little blond TSP officer running up behind her damned well would.

  Charlie turned away quickly. “I’m going to go see if I can help somewhere.”

  “If you’re not hurt, you need to go to the crowd over there.” Lou’s little girl pointed toward the north. But she wasn’t looking toward him. Thank the heavens. “There’s a man there. His name is George. He’s the mayor of the town, if you’re not from around here. He’s organizing rides for those who need them and taking statements. Taking people’s information so we can keep things organized.”

  “Thanks, honey. I’ll find him.” He risked looking at her again. His eyes met hers, but he didn’t think she’d recognized him. The dark and his disguise saved him again.

  This sweet little thing had almost died because of him, Lou, and Pete.

  Guilt for that would haunt him every breath he took. “God bless you, girls. For what you’re doing here tonight. God bless. And stay safe.”

  He took off before they could say anything else.

  Chapter 51

  Bailey had never been so happy to see the TSP post in her life. She’d never been with Clay on a death notification call before. She hoped she never had to go with him on one again. The last hour had been one of the worst she’d ever had in an official capacity.

  He hadn’t said a word since they’d left Todd Blaire’s parents’ home. The couple had been devastated. Todd had been their only son. He’d been engaged to a teacher at the Barrattville Elementary. When they left, the parents had been about to call Todd’s younger sister and give her the news.

  His fiancée was on her way over now.

  She’d never forget their pain.

  Daniel McKellen, one of the detectives at Finley Creek, had been going to handle the other two death notifications. The couple had been from his neighborhood in Finley Creek, in their fifties, and driving too small of a car to have a chance.

  She was just thankful that it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Fifteen cars, a slick road, dark, rainy night. If they hadn’t have had two doctors on the road who’d stopped to help, they would have lost more.

  The rain soaked her as she climbed out of the Tahoe. Bailey didn’t feel it.

  She’d stopped feeling the rain several hours ago.

  “Inside. Coffee. It’ll help.”

  His order was soft. Bailey hated coffee. But she complied. She hurt in ways she hadn’t in a very long time. Down to her soul.

  She was the first inside. Bailey paused in the small lobby, uncertain where to go next. The night dispatcher was away from her desk. A hot hand landed on her shoulder. Bailey jumped.

  He was there. Right there.

  “Clay?”

  “Hmmm?” His hand was still on her.

  “How are you supposed to forget tonight?”

  “I don’t know. If I did...”

  He pulled her closer. And wrapped his arms around her. Bailey just let him. Her tears mixed with the rain that soaked their clothes.

  It didn’t matter one bit that anyone driving by could see exactly what they were doing. And they were unmistakable.

  She was still in her uniform, and her hair was down her back and drenched.

  It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that his arms were strong around her while she cried.

  Chapter 52

  Clay knew he was being an idiot. He had no business holding her like this in front of anyone who wanted to drive by. He was in several violations of TSP policies now. But he’d watched too many people hurting tonight—thirty-nine people had been on the road tonight. Of those, thirty were now at the surrounding hospitals.

  Three people would never be going home again. And it was still iffy for four more. Including three children pulled from two different cars.

  One old man he’d pulled free himself had looked Clay straight in the eye and told him to make himself useful getting women and children to safety first before worrying about an old goat like him. His wife had already been gone ten years. He had no one left.

  Clay wasn’t about to leave that old man to die alone.

  He’d pulled him free and gotten him on a stretcher and then left him. Like he had to. And moved on to the next car. And the next.

  He’d be back out there first thing in the light of day—to assist. The crash had actually happened just over the Finley Creek County line. It wasn’t even his jurisdiction. But it had been close enough for them to help. Finley Creek’s people were handling it for now with assistance from the Texas Highway Patrol.

  But Bailey...he wasn’t taking her back out there with him. Not if he could prevent it.

  He couldn’t protect her from everything. It was her job to help him protect the county, but Clay wished he could keep everything dark and bad away from the woman in his arms.

  If he could just keep the world safe and make it better for her, then he would have a true purpose in this world.

  That old man he’d helped tonight had looked right at him and told him to not live his life afraid.

  To get his ass out there and do what a man was supposed to do.

  Clay had known the man since he was six or seven. He’d been Clay’s next-door neighbor for ten years when he’d been a kid.

  He’d told Clay’s father once if he ever struck Clay again, he’d break both his arms.

  Mr. Ariczeck was going to be just fine. He’d had only bumps and bruises. But Clay still shook where he held her.

  He finally pulled away and looked down at her. “Bailey, get your reports written up. Meet me in my office in one hour. I’ll give you a lift home.”

  “I can drive.”

  “No. You can’t. Not tonight you can’t. You just...can’t.”

  Chapter 53

  She was mostly quiet as they went over the case
files together the next afternoon, two hard chairs pulled up to the edge of his desk. Only when she had a question would she speak. And it was straight to the point. No long-winded chattery Bailey-tangents like he was used to. He never thought he’d miss her chattering at him until she stopped.

  Clay would have to get used to that.

  He didn’t mention it; didn’t want to force her to think about what had happened four months back.

  The motor vehicle accident was still very much on her mind. They’d both been brought back out there to the scene. There’d been signs of an eleventh vehicle parked nearby, and Dr. Netorre, Bailey’s friend from Finley Creek, had reported a middle-aged man driving a red truck being in that general vicinity. Bailey had confirmed it.

  But no one had any idea who he had been—or what had happened to the red truck. There was some question whether he had actually caused the incident.

  He had to be found.

  Bailey had postulated that he’d backed it out when the six ambulances that had been on scene for the minor injuries pulled out almost at the same time.

  Clay hadn’t seen it at all.

  Finley Creek forensics were going to go over confiscated cell phone videos when they could.

  But Clay and Bailey had a murder case to solve.

  Once they finished reviewing all of Kevin Beck’s notes and photos—and there were a lot—Clay was convinced they weren’t any closer to finding the answers than they’d been when they started.

  And his partner was yawning. He checked his watch.

  It was well past midnight. No wonder. They’d worked eighteen hours yesterday on the MVA. And another twelve today.

  He wasn’t certain he could legally keep her any longer. He wasn’t too certain what the labor laws were right now. Not off the top of his head.

  Bailey must be exhausted. “Take a break. I’m going to go photocopy these for Jeremy.”

  She stood. “I’ll do it.”

  “Absolutely not. Take a damned break, Bailey. It doesn’t mean you’re weak. I promise.”

  He wanted to just scoop her up and hold her. Take care of her. Damn it, he wanted to have the right to do just that.

  At the moment, as exhausted as he was and damned vulnerable, he almost did it.

  That thought had him running from the room like the coward that he was. Again.

  ***

  When he returned after he realized he’d run away from her yet again, Clay found her sprawled over her files, one skinny arm beneath her head. Out. He shouldn't have kept her this late. Not after last night. He thought about waking her, but he couldn't. She looked so exhausted. Like the world had weighed her down.

  He doubted her sleep had been all that easy last night. His hadn’t.

  They’d lost two people before they’d been able to extract them from the vehicles. If they hadn’t just happened to have two doctors in the crowd to help, they would have lost more. Clay knew that.

  But this was Bailey’s first massive MVA. It would leave a mark that would never be erased.

  He wished she had been anywhere but there last night. Wished she didn’t have to see those images up close and personal like she had.

  He wished he had been able to protect her from it.

  Bailey was supposed to be his damned Tinkerbell, flitting about everywhere. Making him smile. Reminding him that the world was as beautiful as her eyes. All he had to do was look. She wasn't supposed to look like this.

  Clay shocked the hell out of himself when he cleared the junk off the couch in his office. He knew what he was doing was crazy. A bit unorthodox, at the least. Against policy, most definitely. Hell, he could probably get himself and the department sued if she wanted. But...he couldn't leave her sprawled there like that, all twisted up over photos of dead blond women who looked too much like her for his peace of mind.

  He pulled her chair back quietly. The bottom half of Bailey rolled with it.

  The top half of her didn't so much as shift an inch.

  He fought back the rush of tenderness urging him to kiss those soft lips just once. Only the knowledge that he didn’t have permission kept him from doing just that.

  But damn it, he wanted to kiss this beautiful, soft, wonderful woman so badly he could almost taste her. If he wasn’t such a damned coward...

  Instead, he slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her waist a bit. Then he lifted. Damn it, she didn't weigh enough. Hot air and fluff and spirit—that's what Bailey Moore consisted of.

  He carried her across his office, grateful his budget hadn't allowed for security cameras in the TSP post—one reason he’d wanted the case files in there to begin with.

  Her head rested against his shoulder. Her sweet-smelling hair brushed his chin. A strand stuck in the stubble he hadn't shaved off.

  A small hum of contentment slipped from between her lips.

  He lowered her to the couch as quickly as he could. He did not need to hear the soft little sounds Bailey made in her sleep.

  He already wouldn't sleep well tonight. Clay never did whenever he brushed up against Bailey.

  He arranged her on the couch as best he could. It was a long couch—she was not a long woman. Then he pulled an old quilt out of the closet and covered with it. She never so much as stirred once.

  Clay couldn't help himself. He cupped her cheek with one hand, just brushing his finger across her skin. She blinked open her eyes, for just one moment. Then as he watched, drifted back to sleep.

  He closed his own eyes, praying for strength. Strength to forget exactly how she'd looked. Strength to not imagine her in his damned bed instead of on the dusty, old couch that had most likely been in his office since 1987.

  He'd burned for Bailey from the very beginning. And the fire was just flaming higher.

  But he was a smart man who had long ago learned not to play with fire unless he wanted to get burned. He left her on his couch. And went back to work. Where he was safe.

  Chapter 54

  Lou had heard on the radio about the dead woman they’d found. He knew who’d done it. It sickened him to know that his baby girl was going to be seeing what Glen had done. Would have to deal with it.

  Murdered women stayed in a man’s soul. It had to be worse for a sweet girl like his baby. Maybe it would give her nightmares. Make her turn to alcohol like it had Lou before. Maybe...

  But she had people to watch her. To care about her.

  Bert Dillon, for one. Bert was experienced. He’d know what to do for Bailey, if she needed him. Bert would be there.

  That rubbed. It should be Lou there. It shouldn’t be Bert.

  How did Lou know that Bert wasn’t taking his anger at Lou out on Bailey? Bert had to hate Lou for what Lou had been a part of.

  Yet Bailey was welcomed in Bert’s home?

  He could not understand it.

  Unless it was because of Bert’s son. Lou had watched him with Bailey when he had a chance. The boy loved Bailey. It was in how he looked at her.

  She’d be happy with Bert’s son. Safe.

  That mattered.

  And she’d have that sweet little baby boy to love. Bailey was made to love, to have a family.

  To not be so alone.

  Lou settled in the seat of his old van. He’d left the hotel he’d been staying in when Glen had sent him those photos. His van was his only other option. Unless he hit Charlie’s place again.

  But that made him itchy. The two of them together were more likely to get caught, then being apart.

  He could make do with his van again. At least it was his and not the damned prison.

  No worse than being in a concrete box for years. At least here he had a window. He was stupid to park there across from the sheriff’s office, but...

  Bailey was still inside. He’d followed her there the night before. After the accident. By the grace of God, Lou had missed being in that damned wreck by two minutes. He’d turned around before the first ambulance had even arrived and hidden with his li
ghts off until Bailey and that damned Addy had driven by hours later.

  His poor baby. To have seen something like that.

  It sickened him.

  Addy should have left her back at the precinct and taken one of those boys of his out there instead.

  As long as his daughter was in there, and as long as Glen was out there hunting blond women, Lou was going to be where he could see her.

  Movement at the window of the sheriff’s office had Lou ducking, then peering over the dash carefully. Right into the sheriff’s office.

  With the lights on inside, he could see the sheriff clearly.

  He supposed Addy was a decent sheriff.

  He’d been the one to find Bailey.

  Lou wouldn’t forget how his baby girl had looked almost dead in the guy’s arms. Nor would he forget the expression on the sheriff’s face in that photo.

  He saw the sheriff in the light now. Young, strong, well-liked. A leader among men, he’d heard the man called. And the guy had held himself well tonight out there on the street like that. Lou would give him that.

  Sheriff Addy turned, and he had someone in his arms.

  Lou straightened, his breath catching.

  He’d recognize his baby girl’s gold hair anywhere. No one in that place had hair as long as Bailey’s, not even the dispatchers or the two clerks.

  What in the hell was Addy doing with Bailey in his damned arms?

  She didn’t look like she was moving.

  Lou cursed and opened the glove box. He had a pair of old binoculars somewhere. It took him a moment, but he could finally see.

  Bailey was asleep. And that man was touching her. Looking at her like he wanted her.

  Bailey was too good for a man like the sheriff. Lou didn’t want her with a damned cop. All the cops he’d ever known except one or two had been corrupt, power-hungry assholes. Arrogant sonsofbitches who got off on the power.

  Hell, Lou used to be that way himself.