by Dana Mentink
He arched an eyebrow. “I always knew that June was LeeAnn’s, even though she tried to keep it a secret.”
“You did? You didn’t let on that you knew until after she died.”
“I would never do anything to give Tucker power over LeeAnn or her child. He isn’t a father.”
She sighed. “Thank you for honoring her decision.”
“And he’s come back for June now, hasn’t he?”
She nodded.
His mouth tightened into a line. “I’ll do whatever I can to protect you both.”
“Thank you. We’re under pretty close watch at the moment.”
John rapped the file on the desktop. “Don’t trust him.”
“Who?”
“The parole officer. Don’t rely on him for help, Keeley. He set Tucker loose to kill LeeAnn. He knows it. You can see the guilt in his eyes.”
She felt herself wanting to defend Mick, but nothing John said was untrue. “He’s not a bad man. He made a mistake, the same mistake LeeAnn made in trusting Tucker.”
“LeeAnn was blinded by love. She would have come to her senses eventually. Mick has no such excuse. It was his job to know better.”
The hummingbird flitted back and forth, looking for freedom, perhaps. She wondered how Mick would feel if he was freed from the ponderous burden of guilt that weighed him down. Try as she might to keep him out of her thoughts, his face kept appearing in her mind’s eye.
You’ve got to stop that, she thought. She would not spend time worrying about Mick Hudson.
John’s hard stare bored into her.
“You like him, don’t you?”
She tightened her grip on the broom handle.
“I guess I wish Tucker’s actions hadn’t ruined him, too, but there’s nothing I can do about that. I have to take care of myself and Junie.”
“Yes, that’s all that matters. Family. Remember that I’m always here for you.” He flushed a deep scarlet and looked away. “Sorry. I miss her so much, sometimes I can almost feel her presence.” Tears glittered beneath his lowered lashes.
How much they’d all suffered. At least she had Junie. John had nothing but his birds. “Thank you, John,” she said. “You are a good friend.”
He nodded, gathering his folders without meeting her eyes.
She continued on with her rounds, freshening bedding material and filling feeding cups. The green feather stayed on her mind. Had the parrot somehow survived its injury? Or had it lost its life the same day as her beautiful sister?
Why had she never thought of it before?
*
Mick met Keeley at the house. He didn’t ask how her time had gone with John Bender, though he burned to do so. She fixed peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches for an early lunch before their meeting with Chief Uttley.
“I’m out of jelly,” she explained. He noticed she was also out of milk and eggs.
“This is good,” he said. He’d never eaten that particular combination and he was surprised that he liked it. He wasn’t sure if it was the food or the woman who’d fixed it for him that made him enjoy it. When his phone buzzed, he answered.
“It’s Pickford. Dug something up you might be able to use.”
Mick was surprised. He had not thought the sheriff would actually follow through with checking out Uttley.
“My buddies had nothing much to say about Uttley. About ten years ago, though, he killed a female pedestrian while he was in pursuit of a suspect. Took a lot out of him. One of those bad things and not his fault. Other than that, they got nothing bad to say, and if they did they aren’t going to blab it.”
He understood. The blue brotherhood. There might be a whole lot of things Pickford’s buddies weren’t ready to share. “Thank you.”
“And there’s one more thing that might interest you. One of my guys knew of the brother Bruce.”
“From the garage?”
“Yeah. Said his cop cousin busted Brother Bruce a year ago for misdemeanor stuff here in Oregon, but he always knew the kid was into something they couldn’t prove.”
No news there. He was about to end the call.
“I guess you can ask your former colleagues about it. Looks like your outfit handled his parole.”
Mike squeezed the phone to his ear. “What?”
Pickford paused. “I think you heard me. Maybe you should spend more time looking at your own people than rustling up dirt in our departments.”
“Who was his parole officer?”
“Guy named Reginald Donaldson. Know him?”
It seemed as if all the air was sucked out of the room. “Yes, I know him,” Mick said. “Thanks again.”
He disconnected and stared at the phone in his hands. Reggie was Brother Bruce’s parole officer? Why had he concealed the fact? He sent a text.
Need to talk to you this afternoon.
There was no response.
Keeley frowned. “You look as if you just lost your best friend.”
Had he? No sense piling on to her worries until he’d checked it out. “Something I need to do later.”
“Okay.”
She went into her bedroom to grab a sweater and came immediately back with frown. “You fixed the window.”
He nodded.
“I told you it would have to wait.”
“Forecasting rain. You needed a window. I know a guy. It was cheap.”
She yanked on the sweater. “I didn’t want that. I told you I wasn’t going to replace it. Did you even hear what I said?” Storm clouds drifted through her eyes.
He shrugged. “You needed it.”
“I need a lot of things,” she snapped. “I need a new car and the roof fixed and a killer to be caught and my life to get back to normal, but I can’t rely on someone else to suddenly fix everything for us.” Her voice rose with each word.
“I wanted to help.”
“So did he.”
“Who?”
“Tucker.” Her voice vibrated with emotion. “He fixed my car, hung pictures for my sister. She, we, let him into our lives.” Tears glittered, illuminating that blue of her irises to sapphire. “We let him in, don’t you see? We trusted him.”
Mick’s heart felt as though it had been sliced with a cleaver. Why hadn’t he thought it out before he’d barreled ahead and went against her wishes? Big clumsy brute shoving his way in, knowing what was best for a woman who’d been betrayed by another brute not two years before. He let out a long slow breath. “I didn’t think.”
Her arms were folded, shoulders high and tight, cheeks flooded with color. “You can’t come in here and interfere. I need you to help me catch Tucker, nothing more. Do you understand?”
He realized that he’d also managed to shame her, expose her vulnerability in ways that made her feel small and inadequate. Worst of all, he’d scared her.
You’re an idiot, Mick. He stood and said the only thing he could. “I apologize. Sincerely.”
Her lips thinned into a tight line, nostrils flared as she fought for breath. “Never mind. Let’s go meet the chief. I want this thing resolved as soon as possible.”
“So I can get you out of my life,” he knew she meant. He didn’t blame her.
Mick Hudson, Class A jerk, was muddying the waters far more than he was helping. He thought about how she’d feel if she knew the anonymous money came from him every month. He knew how she’d see it. Interference, another way a man was prying into her life without invitation. He’d have to tell her, but maybe not until she’d paid off a few bills with the next check. At least he could give her that.
She walked by him stiffly, and he followed her to the truck, his spirit fallen to dirt level, worry about Reggie warring with regret at hurting Keeley.
In the truck, it was deadly silent.
“Again,” he said, clearing his throat, “I am sorry. I didn’t think about how you’d feel. I was wrong.”
She looked out the window. “I know you meant well. It was easy to misunderstand when I said
Junie and I needed you.”
“I overstepped. No excuse.”
Why had he thought to do it anyway? Because he couldn’t stand the idea that she might be unsafe, compromised by the storm and whatever other forces were out to hurt her. It was one thing, one small thing that he could do to make her life better, and for some reason she was all he could think about.
Or maybe it was just because he was an overbearing jerk, one of those chauvinists who felt as if a woman needed a man to take care of them. “No,” he wanted to say. “I know you are strong, so strong it takes my breath away.” He couldn’t say it. The only thing to do was get the meeting over with and get to the bottom of things with Reggie.
He cranked the engine to life. She pressed her hands to her mouth and gave a little half sigh and then, suddenly, she’d scooted over and put her arms around his neck.
He was so startled he didn’t know what to do. His mind could not understand, but his body reacted, embracing her, relishing the softness of hers, the brush of her orange-shampoo-scented hair, the tickle of her lashes against his jaw. He was too surprised to speak, to rouse her from whatever impulse had caused her sudden change of heart.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You were being generous, and I made you feel bad,” she mumbled into his T-shirt.
He wrapped his arms around her tighter, letting the feel of her press some life back into his battered heart. “My fault. Totally. You had every right to be mad. I was a jerk.”
She put her head against his chest and he thought the thundering of his heart might deafen her. He heard her sigh, long and slow, a sound that was more tender and soft than the peeping of baby birds. He breathed in the warmth of her. If there was one moment in his life that he could hold on to forever, this was the one.
“Thank you for replacing my window.” She took a breath before she pulled away, and he felt bereft. “That’s all I should have said. An act of kindness is not going to strip away my independence or threaten Junie’s safety. I’ve been scared since LeeAnn’s death. Too scared. My mother used to say if you decline a gift, you rob the giver of a blessing. Anyway,” she said, buckling her seat belt, “Thank you.”
He was nonplussed, thrown completely off-kilter by her sincerity, the ease at which she expressed herself and bared her heart. He would have said anything then to make her lay her head down against him again, to be so close to something so incredibly wonderful. What was happening to him?
It was a relief to start the engine and watch the miles tick away, but even so his pulse refused to return to a normal rhythm. When his phone rang, he snatched it up as if it was a parachute rip cord and he was plummeting. “Hello?”
There was the sound of breathing, heavy and panicked.
“You have to help her.”
His nerves iced over. “Tucker?”
Keeley pressed close to hear.
“At the garage. I don’t think she’s going to make it,” Tucker gasped.
“Who? What happened? Tell me,” he commanded.
“Just hurry.” There was a soft, high-pitched moan and the phone disconnected.
Mick stared at the phone in his hand.
Keeley’s face was white. “It has to be the Quick Stop Garage. Is he talking about Ginny? That sounded like a woman in pain.”
“Call the police.”
She was already reaching for the phone.
His mind whirled. “We’re only six blocks away. I’ll drop you at the next light.”
“No. He’s talking about Ginny and she’s hurt. I’m coming.”
“This could all be a trap, Keeley. Consider the source.”
“That was fear in Tucker’s voice, Mick. Terror even. He wasn’t faking that. We have to go now.”
He drove as fast as he could, slowing just before the entrance to the garage. There was no glimmer of light from the darkened window. He jerked the truck to a stop. This time, he wasn’t worried about politeness.
“Listen to me, you’re a mother now, the only person Junie has in this world.” He gripped her upper arms and would not let her look away. “You can’t go in there. Keep the engine running and stay locked in until the cops arrive.”
“I…” Her eyes searched his. He saw the struggle there, and the decision born of love for her little girl. “Okay.”
As he got out she clutched at his hand. “You shouldn’t go in, either, Mick. You’re not a parole officer anymore.”
“I still have one case left to close,” he said. For you and Junie. Before he could reconsider, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before he ran toward the back entrance of the garage.
Mick could see nothing in the two windows he checked. He estimated it would be less than ten minutes before the police would arrive. The reasonable thing to do would be to wait, but he was in no mood to be reasonable, not after he’d heard that moan of pain.
Tucker Rivendale would not hurt anyone else if Mick could help it.
The only option seemed to be to edge around to the back door and force his way in. He didn’t need to. The door was ajar; the small pane of glass above the knob was shattered. He made himself as small a target as he could manage and then crept through. His shoes crunched on the glass. Tucker would know he had arrived, served up like a Christmas goose, but there was no help for it now. He unsheathed the knife. Holding it in front of him, he scooted behind a tool chest, which was barely big enough to cover him. Go for broke. It was the only way to save Ginny, if she was actually in danger.
“Tucker,” he yelled into the darkness.
“Here” came the reply from the mechanic’s bay. He could see through the threshold into the cavernous space. “Hurry.”
Tucker’s voice was urgent, plaintive. So sincere. Don’t fall for it again, Mick. He eased closer, keeping sheltered as much as he could. He saw what he was looking for, the switch to the overhead lights. It would give him one moment of surprise only, but a moment might be all he would need to ascertain if the whole thing was a ploy to get to Keeley.
He slammed the switch up and the lights buzzed on.
Inside, next to a car with no wheels, was Tucker Rivendale.
On the floor next to him was Ginny’s crumpled body.
FIFTEEN
The police would be there in moments. Keeley could hear the siren in the distance, but there were so many avenues of escape for Tucker. What if he fled into the woods? Escaped from Mick after—she swallowed hard—he killed him. Mick was only walking into that garage to protect her and June, and now Ginny. He would die if it meant that they might have a chance to live a life free of Tucker. Her stomach tightened to fist size.
She threw the door open and ran, vowing that she would keep to the shelter of the trees behind the garage and wait for the police. If Tucker fled that way, she could at least inform them which way he’d gone. Or maybe she’d spot something, anything that might create a distraction so Mick could get Ginny out safely. The hammering of her pulse increased with each passing moment.
She raced to the back and spotted the open door. Her heart ached to scream his name. Mick, what’s happening in there? She crept close enough to peer inside.
She saw Tucker step into her line of sight, hands held up in the air. Her breath caught. Mick had done it; somehow he’d thrown Tucker off guard. She sprinted inside, a cry escaping when she saw Ginny lying on the stained cement floor.
Mick shot her a look. He had a knife in his hand.
She knelt next to Ginny, whose face was bruised and her lip split. A faint pulse beat in her wrist but her body was cold, so cold.
Tucker’s mouth was twisted in grief. “You’ve got to save her. She’s just a kid. She was trying to help me.”
“Why did you do this to her?” Mick snarled, voice barely recognizable as the big-hearted man she knew.
“I didn’t hurt her,” Tucker said. “She texted to tell me the brothers, the guys who own this garage, brought her here. I broke in and found her like this. I didn’t know who else to call. I figured the
cops would shoot me on sight.”
Mick’s knife-armed hand didn’t waver. “They might anyway.”
Tucker shook his head. “If that’s the way it ends, so be it, but just help Ginny, okay? Can you stop trying to ruin me long enough to do that? She’s my friend.”
Keeley took off her jacket and put it over the girl, trying to chafe some warmth back into her hands. “Help is coming, Ginny,” she crooned in the same tone she used when Junie was scared about thunder. “Hang in there.”
The sirens screamed now, just outside the building.
Tucker shifted from foot to foot. Would he try to run? She wasn’t sure, but she knew Mick would not let him leave the garage under any circumstances.
Tucker finally tore his gaze away from Ginny and stared at her.
“Ginny told me June was my kid. I just wanted to get to know her better. I came here so I could tell her that I’m not the man everybody thinks I am. That’s all. I never meant to scare you. I’m not a killer.”
Keeley met his gaze, saw the sorrow there. Was he deluded enough to think himself innocent? Was it possible that he could not face what he had done? The thought that had lived in the darkest part of her soul for so many months found its way past her lips.
“LeeAnn loved you.”
He swallowed hard. “I loved her, too, more than anything.”
Keeley sucked in a breath. “Tucker, why did you kill my sister? Why?”
The noise of the sirens echoed and bounced through the cavernous garage, but her attention remained riveted on Tucker.
“Why did you kill my sister?” she repeated.
He closed his eyes, mouth twisted as if he was in physical pain. When he opened them, his face blazed with emotion. Each syllable fell like a stone. “I did not kill LeeAnn.”
The air seemed to leave the room, pulling the oxygen from her lungs. Tucker Rivendale, her enemy, her sister’s killer, sounded very much like a man telling the truth.
Mick edged closer. “No more. You’ll have your say in court.”
Tucker laughed, an edge of hysteria in it. “I won’t live to see a courtroom, Mick. You’ll see to that, won’t you?”
