He could spot people like her a mile away. Life’s bounty fell at their feet. They had charmed, sheltered childhoods, lacked neither money nor imagination, and they only had to reach out and take anything they decided to have. Career. Money. House. Business. Whatever they desired. Nothing bad ever happened to them and they lived in denial that anything ever would. Maybe nothing bad would until the day they died. Roman didn’t live that way. He had no illusions of how awful life could be for some people. Not following a dream—or even knowing what to dream about—only made it worse. That was the biggest unfairness for him, not knowing his true calling. Meeting people like Kendra reminded him of that. She probably lived with the happy satisfaction that she had found her calling.
Ambition. Failure before success. Yeah, he got all that. Ambition had gotten him where he was today. What he could never grasp is how people like Kendra Scott knew what they wanted in life. How did anyone know that? Did an idea drop into their brain one random night or were they born with it already implanted?
Roman wasn’t a hopeless pessimist. He could relax and have a good time with anyone. He just couldn’t live in a cushy bubble that blocked reality.
He passed familiar shops along his way, reminded again of Kendra’s graceful yet wild attractiveness. Okay, he had to admit her striking beauty did have something to do with his reluctance to meet her. She might lasso him into sticking around too long.
Damn Kadin for sending him here. He’d done that on purpose.
* * *
Kendra left Lund’s Bakery as she did every Wednesday morning with a box of scones. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she collided with someone who had just appeared in the opening of the bakery. Bouncing backward, she bumped against the still-open door, and with her hand still gripping the handle, her arm wrenched.
“Ah!”
The man moved back quick enough. Supporting her arm, he steadied her so that she could free her hand from the handle.
Holding her fingers, she looked up from legs to hips to impressive chest to the face she’d seen last night. Although he’d been across the street, there was no mistaking his build and the general way he held himself. Tall and imposing, he held an aura of fearless confidence and something darker.
She took two steps back. “You.”
Light gray eyes changed from concern to questioning. “Me?”
“I...I saw you outside my...my shop...last night.” Maybe she shouldn’t reveal that. What if he was a killer?
She took another step back.
Taking note of her reaction, he grew shrewdly alert. “Were you looking for someone?”
Why would he ask her that? “No.”
“You’re just observant?”
“Who the hell are you?” She’d hardly tell a stranger his impressive build had drawn her attention to him, a peppering of sexy along with a dash of danger.
A half grin almost softened the hardness in his eyes. “Roman Cooper. Dark Alley Investigations. Didn’t anyone let you know I was coming?”
No one had called her. Maybe Jasper Roesch thought Roman could introduce himself. He had promised to send someone.
She took in Roman’s appearance, rugged but not unkempt. He was quite good-looking in a less than soft way. He was a detective? Although clean and lean, he carried the air of a rebel, a darkly handsome one. No reserved gentleman stood before her. He struck her as the type who let nothing stand in his way. She pictured detectives as more refined, caring more about appearances than their service to humanity.
“Why were you spying on me last night?” she asked.
He hesitated and that gave him away. “It was late.”
Why did he lie? “Jasper said he was going to send a detective. I was hoping he’d change his mind and take the case himself.”
“He’s busy getting married and having a baby right now.”
He didn’t sound impressed. In fact, he sounded a little condescending, as though marriage should never take priority over a case.
“Did you look into my sister’s case?”
“She doesn’t have a case,” he said. “The coroner’s report told me everything I needed to know. I agree with his assessment.”
Anger billowed up in a wave. So typical of what she expected in some people! “It is easier to agree with what’s already there. What were you going to do? Leave town without talking to me?”
“I would have met with you and you would have received a copy of my report.”
“But now that you’ve conveniently run into me, you don’t have to?” She wiped her hands together. “Problem solved?”
“I don’t mean to upset you.”
“There are other aspects to this case. You can’t just read a coroner’s report and agree with it. What if the coroner was wrong?”
“He’s a good coroner.”
“Good coroners can make honest mistakes.”
His handsome head bent a little, as though beseeching for understanding. “I have other cases.”
He wasn’t being rude. He truly believed Kaelyn killed herself. That stung. “There are things you don’t know that are important.”
Now his brow rose marginally. “What things?”
“Why don’t you just admit you don’t care enough about my sister’s case?”
“Your sister’s death does appear to be a suicide. I’m sorry that’s difficult for you to hear, but that’s my assessment. What things don’t I know?”
Her offense eased as she saw him open up to new information. “We talked a lot before her death,” Kendra said. “Why do you think the police never questioned me?”
“They didn’t need to.”
Her ire pricked again, she said, “Kaelyn told no one about me, Mr. Cooper. I went to her funeral and no one knew me. She kept me a secret. Why would she do that?”
He appeared to begin to consider how that might change his initial assessment, but he didn’t ask any questions, the biggest one being why she and Kaelyn were separated.
“Don’t you see? I was part of Kaelyn’s plan to escape her horrible husband. If she could get away without him knowing where she was going, she could be free. She would have run away and come to live near me. I’m sure of it.”
Roman studied her a moment, his face unreadable. Then he lightened and asked, “Why don’t you tell me more over a drink later?”
Unable to believe he’d suggested that, she gaped at him. Had he just asked her out on a date?
He nodded down the street toward the pub. “There. After you close tonight.”
Kendra felt her jaw drop open, smart retorts popping to mind but not making their way to her tongue.
“Unless you’d rather I just send you the report?”
Chapter 2
Roman saw Kendra walking toward him on the sidewalk and felt a surge of triumph. He hadn’t been sure she’d take the bait and meet him. He didn’t think anything she said about her sister’s death would change his initial assessment, but the contacts she’d had with her sister and their secretive nature had compelled him to at least follow up. And this wouldn’t be a complete waste of time if he shared a nice evening with a beautiful woman. His drive to avenge victims led him to where he was most needed and he had other cases that needed him more than it appeared Kendra needed him, but one night wouldn’t harm anything.
As she neared, he took in her form in a wide-leg, Jackie O–looking jumpsuit with a draped neckline, cap sleeves and a leather belt. He could see the hint of movement of her breasts and a slender waistline. She moved gracefully, long legs gliding along. She’d moved similarly in her shop last night, an angel in silhouette.
She stopped right before him. “The only reason I’m here is to talk about Kaelyn’s murder.”
“And have a drink with me.” He held the pub door open for her.
She eyed him suspiciously as she passed.
Pete’s Old Ale House teemed with business on this Wednesday evening. Workers celebrated hump day and others participated in a dart tournament. The bartender waved from behind the bar and Roman saw Kendra wave back. The fresh flowers on each round table and booth indicated the owner had a running account with her shop. She probably had a similar relationship with the baker. She must be well-known in town and have a good reputation. Marketing prowess or genuine lover of mankind? He’d met many ambitious women like her and none of them cared more about him than their passion for achievement. Still, something about her drew him in.
He followed her to the only round table left vacant. A group of men dressed in business casual laughed about the day’s highlights at the table next to them. Two women leaned forward toward each other at a booth in an intense girl talk. The dart competition made the most noise, cheers from those standing near the throwing point and nearby tables filled with friends and spouses. Regulars sat at the bar, keeping to themselves or engaging in talk with the fellow beside them.
While not a kid place, the pub was clean and well maintained for its age, which must be more than a hundred years. The wood bar with its ornate and swirling trim looked original, but refurbished, same with the trim around the mirrored wall and shelves of booze bottles. The dark brown wood floor, polished and unblemished, must have been replaced. Modern pendant lighting over the bar and larger fixtures over the dining area provided ample illumination without the glare of brightness. Historical photos on the walls finished the aesthetic appeal.
The bartender spoke to the waitress on his way over to their table. She stopped and went to another table instead.
“Your usual?” the bartender asked.
“Hi, Pete. Yes.”
“I’ll have what she’s having,” Roman said, continuing to observe the pub and its inhabitants.
The bartender returned with frosty mugs of beer.
“Imported lager,” she said, sipping. “Mmm.”
“Do you come here because he buys your flowers or for the beer?” he asked.
She smiled, her bright and sunny personality shining through. “Both. Pete’s a good guy.”
“What about the baker?”
“He and his wife are kindhearted people who love each other. Most of us can only wish we were as lucky.”
She seemed so humble for one who had so much. Uncomfortable with the spark that zapped him unexpectedly, Roman tasted the beer. Not bad. A little light, but not bad.
Her cheerful glow remained and she leaned back, drawing his attention to her teasingly concealed breasts. Why was he so attracted to her? He’d met pretty women like her before. What make her so different? If she was a cop or another detective, or anyone who worked in the trenches like him, he might understand these stirrings of desire. But she didn’t work in the trenches. She had created a perfect world for herself, even surrounding herself with friends like Pete.
Time to slow down this Cupid’s arrow. What better way than to beat her at a game of pool?
Standing, he picked up his beer. “You any good at pool?” He started for the single pool table, neglected on dart tournament night.
Lingering behind a second or two, she at last took her beer and followed. Her slow steps and curious eyes said she suspected his motives. Was this about pool or was this about the two of them?
“I thought we were going to discuss my sister’s case.” She stopped near him beside the pool table.
He choose a cue stick, ignoring how she kept calling her sister’s death a case. He hadn’t decided if it was one or not. “I’d like to get to know my new client before we get into death and destruction.”
“Does that mean you’re going to take the case?”
He had to admit, she had a strong theory that Kaelyn might have intended to run away and live near her secret twin. Kendra hadn’t been mentioned anywhere in any reports he’d read.
“Let’s play pool.” He grinned in a way that often wooed women.
She eyed him warily—she didn’t trust easily. He began to pick up on those undercurrents. She wanted to talk about Kaelyn Johnston’s death, and he wanted to slow things down. She must know or have some idea that he was attracted to her.
Finally, her cautious nature eased a little and she stepped forward to put coins in the old game table. Bent over as she inserted the coins, her eyes lifted and he saw a mischievous smile in them.
“I’m really good at this game,” she said.
Delighted she’d relented and decided to have some fun, he said with equal flirtation, “Let’s find out how good.”
He racked the balls while she chose a stick. He liked watching her move, graceful arms and legs and a shapely butt.
Facing him with a stick, she chalked the end and looked at him.
“You break,” he said.
“You are so going to lose.”
Roman chuckled as he watched her break the balls and sink a solid. Moving around the table for her next shot, she gave him another nice view of her posterior as she made another shot. She sank another solid.
“When Kaelyn and I were six, I remember I was inside playing with dolls and she got mad at me for not wanting to go outside and play on the swing set.” She lowered into position for a more complicated shot and sank yet another solid.
He began to wonder if he’d ever get to play.
“She went outside by herself.” Kendra studied the table for her next shot. “After a while, I stopped playing dolls because I had this awful feeling. My first thought was of Kaelyn.” She poised for another shot and missed this time. Unfazed, she faced him. “I left the bedroom we shared and went to the back door. My mother was out there and lifted Kaelyn. She had blood all over her face. My parents rushed her to the hospital and she had seventeen stitches put in her forehead. She pushed the double swing and it swung back and struck her. I felt so bad after that. If I’d have been with her, she wouldn’t have been hurt.”
What was the point of this story? He didn’t ask.
“I felt that way on and off after we were split up, but I attributed it to my own situation. I felt that way again the day Kaelyn died.”
Roman kept his expression carefully blank. She had a bad feeling the day Kaelyn killed herself? Is that why she thought her twin sister had been murdered? He didn’t do weird. Maybe he should have stuck with meeting for coffee in the morning, report ready and in hand.
“Except this feeling was different. Instead of worry over Kaelyn being hurt, I felt an element of danger, as though Kaelyn might be in bad trouble. I can’t explain it. I only know what I felt, and there can be no coincidence because my twin sister died that day, maybe just shortly after. I felt that way for nearly an hour, and then the feeling sort of...faded. I tried calling and she didn’t answer. The next day, I finally reached her adoptive mother, who told me she’d killed herself.”
Roman wouldn’t comment on what he thought of telepathic twins, or their ability to possess extrasensory perception. He didn’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural, but he also didn’t disbelieve. She stepped back from the table. “It’s your turn.”
He chose his shot and aimed, missing by an inch. “Where are you from?”
Instead of answering, she studied him awhile. “Why am I getting this feeling you’re trying to make a move on me instead of helping solve Kaelyn’s murder?”
He grinned again and this time not to woo her. She’d made him grin with her wit. No man fooled this woman. He felt attraction mushroom to the realm of uncontrollable.
“Your turn.”
After a knowing, soft smile, she studied the table, and then went to bend for her shot and made it. “I was born in Chicago.”
“Your family moved here after that?”
“No.” Pausing for her next shot, she straightened and looked at him. “Our parents were killed in a mass shooting.”
> He didn’t hear that often. Not ever. “That’s terrible.” Now he knew why she and Kaelyn had been apart.
“We were in a bank when some robbers came in with guns. Kaelyn and I got to the floor like Mother said. Our dad tried to stop the robbers and our mother tried to stop him from stopping the robbers. They were shot.”
While he tried to imagine how awful that would be, she made another solid and walked around the table to choose her next move. Did nothing ruffle this woman or was she just calculating?
“That was the beginning of the nightmare,” she said.
She might be baiting him to get him to start asking questions, but what she revealed didn’t jibe with his first impression of her, the polished, successful entrepreneur who’d made a cushy life for herself.
“What happened?” he indulged her by asking. He also wanted to know.
“We became wards of the state. No one wanted to adopt two children, so we were split up. I didn’t know where Kaelyn was taken.” She made her shot and sank another solid and faced him, holding her cue stick upright. “When I was twelve, my adoptive father lost his job. A year went by and he still hadn’t found anything. My adoptive mother didn’t make enough to support us all and things went downhill from there.”
That explanation he hadn’t expected. While she had struck him as one of those fortunate types who did with ease anything they set their mind to do, she hadn’t had an easy start.
He waited for her to shoot again.
“I went hungry a lot and wore the same clothes to school. By the time I was seventeen, our house had been foreclosed and we were living in a trailer. That’s all my adoptive mother could afford.” She bent with her stick and aimed. “The day my adoptive father forgot to pick me up after a school event and a strange man tried to get me to get into his car as I walked home was the day I decided I’d had enough. I ran away. I lived with my best friend’s older sister until I graduated from high school. My adoptive parents didn’t even report me missing.”
Hometown Detective (Cold Case Detectives Book 6) Page 2
