[Indigo Brothers 01.0] Indigo Fire

by Vickie McKeehan

  “We deserve here.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  A few minutes later she heard the sound of soft snoring next to her and realized Jackson had dozed off. So another round would have to wait, she mused. For a few minutes she watched him sleep. But her mind still raced after the rush of sweaty sex.

  Restless, unable to settle, her body still revved with those sensations, Tessa shoved out of bed. Without a robe, she put back on her skirt and top, padded down the hallway over the maple plank floors to the bathroom.

  When she swung open the door she was surprised to see marble and rich wood tones, plenty of floor to ceiling crannies and storage spaces. The focal point was the glass shower with a frameless door and the beautiful tilework beyond. Done in creamy white it was accented with amber glass and a splash of bronze.

  After using the john, she wandered through the rooms and found the house larger than it looked. The palest of blue paint was like a theme, carried out in each area and making the spaces feel open and airy. From front door to back, she inspected each little niche and nook.

  She went in search of bottled water, flicked on the light in the kitchen—and decided this room was her favorite. It’d been completely redone with white cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and a farmhouse sink. Opening the fridge, she found it empty, not even a can of pop. But there were dishes in the cupboard so she ran water from the tap and filled up a glass.

  Leaning against the counter, she admired the hand-painted Talavera tiles in beachy colors used as a backsplash. The design had Lenore written all over it. The style made her smile as she imagined Jackson’s mother putting her personal touches on the project. There was a little island built from a honey walnut wood that held pots and pans. She could see Tanner marking up the plans and building it himself.

  But what made the room really rock were all the plants. It looked like an indoor greenhouse the cook could enjoy while prepping dinner. Under a bank of windows on the side wall grew plants and herbs—even a lemon tree. The greenery gave the room an atrium feel, a peaceful Zen quality—quite a tribute to Jackson’s late grandmother.

  Out of curiosity she went to the back door, flipped the switch, flooding the yard in garlands of light. The sight took her breath away. The gardens were lush and sectioned off in landscaped pathways and raised planter boxes, and urns that stood five feet tall. She recognized vines of climbing honeysuckle, walls of wisteria, and swirls of succulent rhipsales.

  And that was what she could make out in the shadows. She couldn’t wait to see it in brilliant daylight. Maybe she’d talk Jackson into eating breakfast out here in the morning.

  Reluctantly she cut the light out and tiptoed to the front door, letting herself out onto the porch. The drizzle had stopped. But the rain had left its mark. The earthy scent on the air, the smell wafting from the marina, made her think of new beginnings.

  She went over to the swing, wiped the seat with her hand to test for dampness. Finding it dry enough, she took a seat where she could take in the night sounds of the harbor and listen to the waves slapping against the shore some twenty yards away. The eaves still dripped lazily with a soft trickle of runoff. She breathed in the humid air laced with magnolia and jasmine.

  To her, the weather seemed more like summertime than fall. It was so unlike her native North Carolina, which could dip into the fifties this time of year and get downright cold during the winter months.

  She glanced up, and for the second time that night, found Jackson watching her. She returned his stare and smiled. He’d put on jeans but hadn’t zipped or buttoned them up. He hadn’t bothered with underwear either. She could see tufts of pubic hair in the gap. His bare chest glistened in a stream of moonlight and made her mouth water. The man looked like he belonged on the cover of Hunk Daily.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “You got me all stirred up. I couldn’t sleep.”

  He gave her a sleepy, sexy grin and held out his hand. “Come back to bed, Tessa.”

  When her heart fluttered in her chest, a couple of beats too fast, she realized she’d already fallen hard and wasn’t sure what to do about it. But denying this night wasn’t part of the deal. She got up and went to him, slid her arms around his waist. She tiptoed up so her lips would reach his ear. Using her teeth, she nipped at his neck. “Take me back to bed, Jackson.”

  Tessa woke, washed in sunlight. She lifted her head, squinted into the glare and realized she was tangled in the sheets alone. She heard sounds coming from the kitchen and assumed Jackson was fixing her breakfast. Although what he’d used for food she couldn’t imagine. She tried to remember the last time anyone had poured her a bowl of cereal.

  She was getting dressed when he appeared in the doorway holding a tray with a decanter of coffee, two cups, and two plates filled with scrambled eggs and toast.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

  “Where on earth did you get the food?”

  “I got up early and went to the market. It’s just down the corner. I had to have coffee. How about breakfast in bed?”

  Her lips bowed up. “As great as that sounds, and believe me it sounds wonderful because I don’t remember anyone ever giving me breakfast in bed before, I have a better idea. The garden out back…”

  “Ah, say no more. Follow me.”

  They backtracked down the hallway and through the kitchen. She ran to open the back door ahead of him and watched while Jackson set the tray down on a round table under a weeping cherry tree. For a moment, they stood together letting the gentle sea breeze dance across their faces. The clear blue sky didn’t hold a hint of last night’s storm.

  It took Tessa several long seconds to come out of her daze. She lifted her head to take in the beauty of it all, staring at what she’d missed last night. Someone had built a trellis out of an old cedar fence and used it to create a place for yellow roses to bud and thrive. Tall, ornate windows had been arranged to form an open-air greenhouse that provided an arbor for the bountiful hydrangeas. The trumpet vines were arranged just so to attract the ruby-throated hummingbirds. The sweet smell of gardenia had her turning in a circle to make sure she didn’t miss anything. “Who did all this?”

  Jackson poured two mugs of coffee, handed one off. “My grandmother before she became ill. And then later, my mom and dad couldn’t stand to see it turn into a weed lot. They put in sweat equity for all this upkeep. It was so much work we all wondered how my seventy-five-year-old grandmother was able to do it in the first place.”

  She stuck her nose in a patch of sweet-smelling lilies. “I think I know. This kind of garden takes a love of the soil, a passion for growing things that supersedes everything else. Your grandmother obviously put her heart and soul into making this her own peaceful getaway in her own backyard, steps from her kitchen. Not everyone has this kind of vision, or patience, or the green thumb to make it happen.”

  Tessa ran her hand along a teak chair and an old table, both time-honored pieces weathered with age. “Your grandmother thought of everything. She created a spot just for reading and relaxing. I’ve never seen anything quite so lovely. It’s like a scene out of a movie set. Imagine how long it took for her to carve out this sea of tranquility with flowers and greenery.”

  Captivated at her reaction, he took hold of her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed the palm. “I’m sure my nana would be pleased you see her talent. Your eggs are getting cold.”

  Her lips curved up. “Why do I get the impression I’m giving you the perfect opening to make fun of me?”

  “Not me. But I’m often blown away by the female response to flowers.”

  “This is not simply about flowers. It’s art. You have only to spend time in her kitchen to see she had a way with plants.” She finally took a seat at the table, dug into the meal. But she continued to look around, to breathe in the fragrant backdrop. “I wish we didn’t have to leave. I can’t imagine walking out here every day. It makes me ashamed I live in a condo that
has a tiny balcony not even big enough to hold a row of clay pots. My place looks more like a soulless entity with no character whatsoever, a cookie cutter environment.”

  “I have to admit I sometimes feel that way when I look out the windows in my loft. The view is all concrete and steel. A few times I’ve caught myself hoping I’d glance out and get a glimpse of Sugar Bay, longing for the slower pace back home. Do you miss Nags Head?”

  “I suppose I do. But right now, I’m caught up in the tropical locale of the Florida Keys. Plus, it’s more laid back. I certainly see why Ryan was drawn to coming here.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I think somewhere along the way I’ve forgotten my roots.”

  “It’s easy enough to do.” She stood up to carry the dishes back into the kitchen. At the sink, he came up behind her, all hands and tongue. Without protest from her, he drew her back down the hallway into the bedroom.

  They didn’t leave the cottage until almost ten. By that time, The Black Rum had already left port several hours earlier without him. So Jackson improvised by paying Paulie Gruden to motor out and deliver him to the boat.

  As soon as he boarded, he knew he was in for a good-natured ribbing from his brothers. But he didn’t expect the murmurs and whispers from the crew, namely Walsh.

  He had to go past Walsh to get to the helm. “You’re late, lover boy. You get lucky last night?”

  “Dock my pay. And it’s none of your business.”

  Walsh ripped out a snort of laughter. His eyes glistened with merriment. “Oh, to be in your shoes. I’ve known a redhead or two, fierce tempers. She’s a lovely woman that Tessa. If you break her heart I’ll whomp you into dirt.”

  Jackson moved on without a word. It was Mitch and Garret who followed him to the bridge, all questions. “Where’d you two disappear to last night?”

  Garret pretended to stick a microphone in front of Jackson’s face using a bottle of water. “The more important question on everyone’s mind is what happened after you left the bar? We need details. As if we didn’t already know but if you could give us the big picture.”

  “Get back to work,” Jackson muttered.

  “Not a chance,” Mitch said. “At least it isn’t that cold fish from work you’ve been trying to turn into a human being for so long.”

  Jackson finally looked up. “Nope. That’s over and done with. I sent Rachel a text.”

  Garret’s eyes winked in surprise. “You broke up with her via text? That’s cold, bro, even for me. You ask me, it was about time, though.”

  “Under the circumstances I thought it appropriate. Rachel hasn’t once asked me about Livvy and the kids or how my family’s handling this thing since I’ve been here.”

  “Does she even know you have a sister?” Mitch asked, studying his charts.

  “Who knows? Who cares? Rachel’s history.”

  “That’s good news since she never once saw fit to come down here for a single family holiday event in all the time you two were dating,” Mitch pointed out.

  “I wouldn’t call what they were doing dating,” Garret pointed out. “More like a version of Sex in the City.” He couldn’t resist the urge to harsh Jackson’s mellow even more. “So now you’re banging the vulnerable gorgeous redhead? That’s a nice step up from the cold fish.”

  “Grow up,” Jackson snarled. “I’m entitled to a personal life.”

  “Hey, don’t bite my head off. Sheesh, you’d think getting laid would help your disposition a little. It always makes me feel better.”

  Ribbing aside, Jackson fired back, “Is that so? Is that why you’re hot for the detective but not getting any?”

  Garret raised a brow but took the comment in stride. “Hey, give me time and we’ll talk. Remember, you have a couple days head start with Tessa. At least I don’t piss Anniston off, not nearly as often as Mitch does Raine.”

  Jackson’s mouth cracked wide with a grin, getting into the spirit of the put-downs. “Yeah, he probably needs to work on that. Maybe one day he’ll share why she hates his guts so much.”

  Mitch finally looked up from his maps, a gleam in his eye. “We can only hope. Maybe one day Raine will clue me in on the seeds of the grudge she carries. When that happens, I’ll be sure to send out an email blast.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Their third meeting with Anniston got underway that night inside the Indigo house after dinner. In lieu of any other place, Lenore’s dining room had been dubbed the “war room.”

  While Raine and Tessa served coffee and cut Lenore’s lemon tarts into squares, Garret finished cleaning up the dining room table while his brothers took turns adding plates to the dishwasher.

  Once space on the table opened up, Anniston spread out her notes. “I know everyone’s had a long day but I hope you guys stay awake because we have a lot to cover.” She turned to Tessa first. “The lab report came back. They found a tiny speck of blood on the medical alert bracelet. The dot of DNA belonged solely to Ryan. We know that because you provided them a sample for comparison. It didn’t match up with an unknown donor. So that’s a wash.”

  Tessa groaned in frustration. “Because that small amount of blood could’ve gotten there while Ryan reeled in a fish. I’m way ahead of you.”

  The detective held up a hand. “Exactly. I can see it now. A defense attorney would argue that Ryan could’ve caught his finger on a hook or something and left that dot of blood. The problem is I don’t know how it got there and neither do you. Speculation is all we have. I’m still keeping an open mind.”

  Anniston directed her attention to the Indigos. “Next, it’s about Livvy’s minivan. Unlike releasing the house, which the authorities feel is not an integral part of the investigation, Tampa Bay PD is keeping the vehicle in impound. I doubt you’ll be getting it back any time soon, if at all. According to my source, they’re in the process of Luminol testing the interior. I’ve also been told that the investigator in that jurisdiction has gone over three-fourths of the available security tapes inside and outside the Tampa Airport.”

  Garret swore under his breath. “Where everyone believes they hopped on a plane to paradise.”

  For a brief moment Anniston flicked a glance at the surfer. What was annoyance at first morphed into patience. “I don’t believe a trip ever took place. The minivan might’ve been found at the airport, but the Buchanan family never got on a plane. Tampa Bay PD is convinced of that. They checked all the major airlines and all the charter jets that flew out of there within the time frame in question. Their conclusion is that Livvy and Walker never bought tickets to go anywhere, certainly didn’t use their credit cards to do it. They never got on a plane, at least not out of that airport. Unless they flew off in a private jet with cash, there’s no indication they left on their own.”

  Garret felt the need to follow up. “Jackson already checked with every pilot that flies out of the airfield here. No plane is unaccounted for. They didn’t leave Indigo Key from there.”

  Anniston shuffled her notes and looked directly at Lenore first and then at Tanner. She glanced at Garret, gave him an indication of what she was about to say. “I want all of you to know how much I hate having to tell you this. But I don’t want to ever mislead you in any way during this investigation. I feel very strongly that Livvy and Walker and the kids met with foul play. I’ve taken a second tour of the house where I spent about two hours trying to figure things out. I’m convinced that whatever happened started there.”

  “So you disagree with Hawkins?” Jackson asked.

  “I do. I’ll tell you why. I think someone either showed up at the house, late, or called in the middle of the night, which can be verified with phone records. I’m waiting to spring that request on Hawkins at the right time. But either way, the knock at the door or the phone call woke Walker and Livvy up and for whatever reason got them out of bed, which prompted them to get the kids out of bed. The house is so clean and tidy, it makes the phone call more probable. Why Walker and Livvy dragged the kids ou
t of bed at that point, I haven’t yet figured out. Nor have I come up with what happened next. Keep in mind my theory is subject to change depending on what else pops up on the radar.” She looked from face to face and saw nothing but bitter disappointment. “I know it isn’t much but…”

  Jackson interrupted with an explanation. “It isn’t that, it’s a starting point. But Tessa said something to me the other night that resonated. What if these people did call and demand that Livvy and Walker meet them at the business? They lured them out of the house on some pretense.”

  “That’s a possibility. The two parties intersected somewhere. Now, I have other news.” Anniston turned to Tessa and Raine. “You guys had the right idea about the affair. You just weren’t looking in the right place. The woman’s name is Harlow Ellerbee and she’s no stripper. In fact, she’s a Miami corporate lawyer, a high-powered one at that. She’s also been married for seven years to one of the partners.”

  Hearing that, Jackson’s hands clenched into a fist. “So Walker was having an affair?”

  “He was indeed, for almost a year.”

  “That son of a bitch,” Tanner growled. “I wish I’d bashed some sense into his ornery head last Christmas.”

  Anniston sent the family a measured, sympathetic look. “I’d say looking at Walker’s credit card statements that’s where most of his debt came from. It seems Ms. Ellerbee has expensive tastes. Very. Whenever Walker could slip away, the two of them dined at the best restaurants, frequented several high-end boutiques, and often spent their afternoons tucked away inside a favorite five-star hotel where they indulged in ordering room service. Walker also bought Ms. Ellerbee an expensive tennis bracelet worth about two grand and a diamond ring that set him back almost ten.”

  Jackson whistled through his teeth. “And to think he spent a third of that on the ring he gave to the future mother of his kids.”

  Garret rubbed his chin. “Uh, question. How exactly did you come by Walker’s credit card statements?”