Liam swallowed. Yasmin had always been affectionate. And forgiving. “Thanks. That would be a big help. But how are you managing your work, being at home with Rocky so much?”
She shrugged. “I can write grants and do paperwork at home just as easily as at the center.”
She made it sound effortless, but he could tell, from the tightness in her shoulders and the faint circles underneath her eyes, that it wasn’t. She’d always been a hard worker, and she ran the women’s center with only volunteer help. Now she’d taken on the care of a teenager, and it had to be wearing on her.
They strolled toward the parking area. Already the cars had thinned out; people tended to take their morning walks early in the August heat.
He could almost pretend that they were doing something recreational, walking the dog together, a couple. Except that she’d dumped him and made it clear she’d had no change of attitude since then. So he needed to keep his thinking practical. “I’m not surprised Rocky’s searching for his mom, but is there anything else going on with him? He’s acting weirder.”
“I think something happened to him the night that guy went down with the car,” she said unexpectedly. “I want to find out what. You should try to find out what.”
“If he knows something, he needs to talk to the police. Mulligan, not me.” Because Mulligan wasn’t interested in Liam’s input.
“If he won’t share anything with me or you, I doubt he’ll talk to a cop he doesn’t know.”
“Maybe you should talk to Mulligan.” He watched her steadily. She’d think he was being hostile, and maybe he was, but he couldn’t quell his curiosity about what had happened between them where their relationship stood.
“I don’t want to talk to Buck,” she said, looking straight ahead. “I want to check into it myself, on the down low. Figure out what happened.”
Liam stared at her. “No. No way! You’re not investigating a murder on your own. Why would you?”
She looked away, just like Rocky had. “No special reason.”
Which meant there was a reason. She thought she knew something. And considering that Yasmin was one of the smartest people he’d ever met, he respected her suspicions.
But this wasn’t an intellectual puzzle or a chemistry class; this was murder. And Yasmin’s smarts wouldn’t keep her safe. “Don’t even think about it,” he said, glaring at her to make sure she took him seriously.
“I won’t put myself at risk. I’ll just...do a little poking around.”
Liam couldn’t like it. Couldn’t, as an officer of the law, sanction it. But he had to admit that the notion of a private, side investigation intrigued him.
Something was wrong, off, about that murder. It didn’t seem like a simple robbery or a crime of passion.
They’d reached his cruiser, and Yasmin turned toward home, lifting a hand as if to say goodbye.
He took it, held it, and the simple sensation of her rough-soft hand, so much smaller than his own, seemed to send sparks through his entire body.
Her lips parted a little and she drew in a breath. Her eyes lifted to meet his, looking troubled. So she felt it, too.
He didn’t let go. She didn’t pull away.
“All those years of being close,” he said. “We knew each other so well. Wonder why we couldn’t make it work?”
She shook her head. “Don’t ask that, Liam.”
“Why not?”
“Just don’t.” She looked to the side, knelt to adjust Rio’s collar. Anything, it seemed, to keep from looking at Liam.
He didn’t understand why she’d ended things with him when she obviously still had feelings of some kind. Her excuse that she wasn’t ready for a relationship didn’t hold water. Was it that their backgrounds were so different? Was he just not good enough for her?
Was it Mulligan?
The notion burned, but he still didn’t want anything to happen to her. “If you do any kind of digging around about the murder,” he heard himself say, “which you shouldn’t, you need to bring me along. I’ll work with you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
LIAM WOULD INVESTIGATE with her. It wasn’t ideal, but it did make Yasmin feel safer. And it meant she’d have control over what was found out, or at least, as close as she could get to it.
And she’d get to spend time with Liam.
She power-walked home, taking deep breaths of warm summer air, Rio leashed at her side. Maybe she and Liam could work together and figure out what had really happened to Rocky’s mom and the dead man. Maybe then Josiah would be cleared. Rocky’s mom would be found and reunited with her son, and Josiah’s lowered stress level would help his treatment work better. She could focus better on her work at the center, try to pull it back from the brink of disaster where it had been hovering for the last few months.
Life could get back to normal.
And what then? You still can’t get involved with Liam.
Not when she knew what kind of genes she carried. Even if her own mental health remained stable, she wouldn’t pass along a significantly increased risk of schizophrenia as well as her mother’s mostly undiagnosed issues.
Maybe sometime in the future she’d meet a man who didn’t want kids. She could at least marry, right?
Of course, that kind of man had exactly zero appeal to Yasmin. She liked men who embraced their families, their kids, as her own father had done.
As Liam wanted to do.
She needed to stop thinking about Liam, but it was hard when she was walking his dog back to the home they basically shared. No, they weren’t under the same roof, but the entrance to the garage apartment was a very short stone’s throw from her door.
Being together this much had made hash of her efforts to forget about him and move on. Every time she saw him—which happened daily now—she wanted to touch his arm, to straighten his collar. To inhale the scent of him. To melt into his arms.
But thinking of those things she couldn’t have made her heart ache, tightened her chest to where it was hard to breathe. Deliberately, trying to regain her good mood, she focused on the flowers, the sky, the birdsong. At least she’d have a little time with Liam, working with him to try to figure out what had happened on the night Rocky had arrived.
Sweet torture and a mistake for her long-term emotional health, but it might get her through. And it would help Josiah, which was the important thing.
Josiah. All of a sudden, she realized what she’d done.
She’d left Josiah alone with Mom. And then she’d sent Rocky home into the mix.
She picked up her pace until she was almost running. Their high level of dysfunction was a big part of why Josiah was living with her now. When she’d started getting weird phone calls from both of them last year, she’d gone to Charleston to visit and realized that Mom was in no condition to care for her newly diagnosed son. Any mother would be worried about a child with a serious mental health condition, but Mom’s own issues made her apprehension shoot out of control. Josiah’s condition, in turn, had been fueled by Mom’s anxiety, and his doctors had agreed that living with Yasmin and having some distance from his mom was a better solution.
Please, let her have gone home before he woke up. Mom had slept in today, after all the drinking last night, so she hadn’t been up when Yasmin had gotten Liam’s text and rushed over to the park. But Mom knew her way around town. She could have walked the few blocks to the Palmetto Pig, collected her car and headed for Charleston, all without seeing Josiah or at least, without spending much time with him. Sometimes, she was very independent.
But today was not that day. The moment Yasmin walked into her house, she discovered her mother standing over Josiah in the kitchen. Josiah sat at the table, his head in his hands. Mom was talking rapidly, her forehead lined, her fingers picking at the sweats Yasmin had given her to sleep in.
Not good. Yasmin
drew in a deep breath, knowing that for her to display nervousness or upset would only make things worse. When she had herself under control, she breezed into the kitchen. “Hey, how’s everyone doing?” she asked. “Where’s Rocky?”
Her mother nodded sideways, at which point she saw Rocky sitting in the corner of the kitchen, playing with a handheld gaming device, his shoulders so tight they were practically glued to his ears.
When he saw Rio, his whole body relaxed. “They didn’t put him down!”
“No, of course not,” she said, letting the dog go. He rushed around the kitchen, bumping against her mother and doing a quick surf of the counters, then flopping down beside Rocky. Rocky wrapped his arms around the dog’s big head and buried his face in his neck.
True canine therapy, and it warmed Yasmin’s heart. No matter what else happened, she was glad Liam had moved into her garage apartment just so that Rocky could have the unconditional comfort Rio offered.
If only it would work for Josiah and Mom, too, but one glance at the two of them told her they weren’t feeling the same warm cuddly feeling Rocky and Rio brought forth in Yasmin.
She looked through the mail as a way of avoiding the tension in the room. “Hey, here’s the information we requested about Safe Haven Middle School,” she commented to Rocky.
He looked at her briefly and then turned back to Rio. “I ain’t going.”
Mom frowned. Whether it was the sentiment or the ain’t, Yasmin didn’t know.
“School here isn’t too bad,” Yasmin said, trying to be reasonable.
Josiah snorted.
“It’s not,” Mom said without conviction. Then she sat down at the table beside Josiah.
Rocky ignored them.
“Coffee, Mom?” Yasmin picked up the coffeepot, looked at the dark brew inside. “I can make more.”
“No, but thanks, honey. That’s okay.”
When Yasmin approached the table she thought she caught a whiff of alcohol. Was it from last night, or was Mom drinking already?
Worry gnawed at Yasmin. If her mother was drinking in the mornings, then she needed help, a lot of help. And she certainly couldn’t drive home today, which meant she’d still be here and grating on Josiah for another day.
Yasmin had half a mind to take a shot of whiskey herself, but she whispered a mental prayer for strength instead.
“We’ll go over to the school Monday morning and get you registered,” she said to Rocky. “You’ll be starting on the first day, and there will be other new kids. It’ll be better than waiting.”
“I’ll go to school when Mom and I go home.” His words were mumbled into the dog’s coat.
“I’m sure you will,” she said, “but until your mom’s able to get back here, she asked me to take care of you. Which means sending you to school so you don’t get behind.” Inspiration hit, a way to distract both Rocky and Josiah from their troubles. “Just to get you back in the thinking groove after a summer off, why don’t you play some chess with Josiah?”
“Don’t know how,” Rocky said. But something about the way he looked up suggested he might be interested.
“What do you think, Joe? Could you teach Rocky to play?”
Josiah gave the slightest of nods.
It was a start. Meanwhile, Yasmin needed to focus on finding out what had gone down that night, where Rocky’s mother was. The child needed to be with her.
Why had she disappeared, anyway? The letter she’d left at the center had been completely nonexplanatory. She’d just said she’d had an emergency and asked if Yasmin could take care of Rocky.
But surely she would have come and asked Yasmin herself if it was possible. Rocky’s mom was disorganized, and she’d made some bad choices in men, but she did care about her son.
But she hadn’t brought him to the women’s center, even though she’d sought refuge and help there in the past. Instead, Josiah had found Rocky down by the docks...at the very site where, sometime the same night, a man had been bludgeoned in his car and rolled into the bayou.
Rocky and Josiah had to know something. But neither one would talk about it to her. And when she’d suggested they go to the police, they’d both flat-out refused, even when Yasmin had told Rocky it might be a faster way to find his mom.
Now, today, Yasmin had her own mom to worry about. She needed to get Mom settled back at home, get her out of the mix and keep her from adding to Josiah’s stresses. Then she’d be able to focus fully on figuring out the truth and helping Rocky.
Hopefully, clearing Josiah.
And she had to accomplish all that working with the man whom she loved but could never, ever have.
* * *
THAT NIGHT, AFTER a mind-numbing afternoon of filling out forms and answering nonessential calls, Liam arrived home to find a police car parked in front of Yasmin’s house.
His heart turned over. He took her porch steps two at a time and pounded on the door. If something had happened to Yasmin...
She answered it instantly like she’d been standing right there. Forehead wrinkled, lips pressed tight.
But she looked safe, unhurt, and his heart rate settled. Until he looked directly behind her.
There was Buck Mulligan standing in the hallway, arms crossed, chin high. Looking like he ruled the place or at least, like he wanted to.
“Everything okay?” Liam kept his voice mild. He was counting on Yasmin’s good Southern manners to force her to invite him in.
There was a momentary struggle in her eyes, and then she ran a jerky hand through her hair and stepped back. “Come on in,” she said. “The more the merrier.”
Buck frowned. “I need to conduct interviews. Is there a reason for him to be here?”
“I’m Yasmin’s friend.” He met Buck’s eyes with a steady glare. “Looks like she might need some help.”
“I’m her friend as well, O’Dwyer, but right now, I’m here on police business.” Buck lifted his chin and Liam caught the unstated rest of the sentence: and you’re not.
Ignoring Buck, Liam stepped inside just as Yasmin’s mother came out of the kitchen.
“Are we finished, Buck?” Her voice, always heavy on the Southern drawl, now had a wheedling tone. “I’m just awful tired. I’d like to get a little rest... Oh.” She stopped still. “Oh, my. What are you doing here, Liam?”
Like he was an unexpected bit of dirt on her shoe. “Hey there, Mrs. Tanner,” he said, stepping forward and holding out a hand, not really expecting her to take it.
She didn’t.
He shrugged internally. He’d tried. Something about this scene was off, and maybe it was just that he didn’t like seeing Mulligan here, but he also wondered how the more vulnerable members of the household—Josiah and Rocky—were taking the day’s happenings. “Is Rio here?”
“Heard he got in a little bit of trouble today.” Mulligan leaned back against the wall, legs apart, still acting like he was the lord of this castle.
Liam didn’t respond, just looked inquiringly at Yasmin.
“He’s in the front room with the boys,” she said, and stepped aside.
Liam walked past her, catching a quick whiff of her musky cherry perfume. Had she put it on for Mulligan?
The hallway was narrow, too narrow for Liam to pass the lounging figure of Buck Mulligan without jostling the man. So he did, making Mulligan straighten and glare.
Immature of him, but he couldn’t help enjoying the moment.
Liam walked on into the living room. Josiah and Rocky sat at opposite ends of the couch, watching preseason football. An abandoned chessboard sat on the coffee table in front of them.
Rio bounded over, and Liam knelt to forestall the dog’s leaping up on him, because that had to stop. Rio gave him a big slobbery kiss and Liam rubbed his sides.
Seeing Mrs. Tanner brought back so many memories. On
e in particular: the day that he’d gone home after school with Yasmin to get help with homework. That was something he’d done pretty often when they were both younger, but this day was different.
It had been awhile since he’d needed studying help, or been willing to ask for it; at sixteen, getting help from a fourteen-year-old girl was even more humiliating than it had been when they were in fifth grade. Liam had barely gotten by in school, given his spotty attendance through the crucial elementary years of learning to read and memorizing multiplication tables. Yasmin, on the other hand, was a certified genius and really did know how to do the advanced math they were being tested on.
And for once, Liam had cared about doing well. His foster dad had sat him down and explained to him the realities of becoming a cop in the twenty-first century: you pretty much had to go to college if you wanted to advance. And Liam was sold on the uniform and influence and ability to change things that came with a law enforcement career.
Yasmin had been glad to help, flattered, even. Neither one of them had given much thought to the fact that nobody but them was home.
Not until her parents and Josiah had arrived a couple of hours later and found them sitting close together at the kitchen table, bent over a math book. Her dad had yelled and her mom had cried and it had taken him a minute to realize why: they thought her virtue was at risk from a big, older, lower-class kid who was feigning stupidity, or maybe not even feigning it, in order to take advantage of her youth and innocence.
Yasmin had been upset at the accusations, had yelled right back that they were just doing homework like a million times before. Her sassy words had gotten her sent to her room by her dad, and her mom had soon rushed upstairs, too, sobbing. That left Yasmin’s father, stern, serious Dr. Tanner, to lecture Liam about appropriate rules and risks and hormonal urges, a deeply embarrassing talk not least because it held elements of truth.
Because of course, at sixteen, he’d been aware that Yasmin was blossoming and beautiful. She’d begun to acquire that hourglass figure that now made men go slack-jawed when she walked down Main Street; even back then, she’d been the subject of a few locker-room conversations.
Low Country Dreams Page 8
