Meant to Be: Southern Heat Series

by Jenna Harte

  Mitch nodded. “She’s smart. If she thinks it’s a problem, she’ll deal with it.”

  Drake sat back, his features relaxing slightly. “You’re right. So… what is it that you need to know for this case?”

  “Can anyone else besides Lexie verify you were here?”

  “Claire was here, but she’d say anything we told her to.”

  Mitch smirked, knowing that the cook and housekeeper hadn’t always thought well of Drake but now doted on him. “Good to know. Is Claire here now?”

  “No. She’s out grocery shopping. But I can have her call when she gets back.”

  Mitch nodded. “What about on December fifth?”

  “I’d have to get my calendar out to know for sure, but I think I was in New York that week. I took Lexie with me to see Rockefeller Center and do some shopping. If I wasn’t with her, I was at the office.”

  The alibi was a little soft, but if needed, Mitch could push to narrow it down. He stood. “I appreciate your understanding.”

  “You’ve got a job to do.” Drake stood and walked with Mitch to the front door.

  “Any chance we can keep this discussion from Lexie?”

  Drake’s smirk said, “no.”

  As uncomfortable as interviews with family or friends could be, talking with Drake hadn’t been too bad. But now it was time to get back on the trail of Jenny and Sydney’s attacker. It was time to drive to Washington, D.C.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sydney exited the exam room, setting the folder in the box for the checkout nurse, and made her way up the long hallway toward her office. Because she hadn’t been at the hospital long, she didn’t have too many women on her patient list and for the most part, they were past childbearing years. That meant less of a chance of late night calls to deliver a baby, and right now, with a stalker on her trail, that was a good thing. Although, she had one patient at the free clinic who was due to deliver at any time. Would Mitch go with her if the call came in the middle of the night? Of course he would. It was his job to protect her. That was all his attention was, protection not affection.

  His kindness was a part of him — she’d witnessed it this morning at Chelsea’s. Chelsea was a friend in need, and he was there to help her. Had he ever kissed Chelsea? Immediately Sydney chastised herself. It was a petty, jealous thought. Even a blind man would know Mitch had taken on the duties of big brother. She’d wanted to ask him about what had happened in Iraq, but his brusque responses and the way his fingers tensed on the steering wheel when they left Chelsea’s let Sydney know he didn’t talk about it.

  There was a time when he would have shared the good and the bad with her, but her job now was to get over the idea they could be fixed. He cared for her and had even kissed her–twice–but a relationship was out of the question.

  “Doctor Preston? Mitch McKenna is in your office.” Nurse Lang’s tone suggested she was thinking the same thing that woman in the car had this morning: Sydney was his next conquest.

  Sydney’s thoughts ambled back to how Mitch had looked that morning standing shirtless in the kitchen. She had to let the dream of their relationship go, but she wouldn’t mind being the next notch on his bedpost in the meantime. And the way he kept kissing her, despite his own protests, suggested he wanted it too. What would it hurt if they were both clear it was sex and only sex?

  “Doctor Preston?”

  Jerked from her thoughts, Sydney smiled, hoping Nurse Lang didn’t think it was sexual fantasies causing Sydney’s momentary daydream. “Yes. Is my next appointment here?”

  “You have about five minutes.”

  Again, there was that tone suggesting she had time for an interlude. Something told Sydney that she and Mitch would need more than five minutes for a between-patient interlude. She shook her head at the idea of having sex in her office, hoping that the warmth in her cheeks didn’t mean she was blushing.

  She nodded toward the nurse and headed to her office. Mitch stood with his back to her, studying the painting she’d bought at the fair.

  “Mitch.” She walked in, closing the door behind her. Let Nurse Lang think what she wanted.

  Mitch turned to her.. “Is that Potters Creek?”

  Sydney nodded. “Yes, I bought it at the fair.” She’d brought it in Monday morning, before all hell had broken lose.

  “Have you been there?”

  “No. Understand I’ll need four-wheel drive if I want to go.”

  He nodded, and for a minute, she thought he might offer to take her. Instead, he looked back at the picture.

  Sydney sighed. “Is everything okay?” She gestured for him to sit in one of her guest chairs. She took the other guest seat, putting her closer to him than if she sat behind her desk.

  “I don’t have anything new to share. I’ve talked to Detective Fletcher, and he’s looking into a couple of new ideas there. And I talked to Jagger.”

  She took a deep breath and sat back. “You really think he could be the attacker?”

  “It’s important I keep personal thoughts and feelings out of it.”

  He was good at it too. It made her sad for him. It shouldn’t be so easy to close off your heart.

  “He denied it, of course. He suggested I speak with Doctor Andres.”

  She sighed. “Which you’d already planned to do.”

  He nodded. “I’m heading up there when I leave here. I plan to be back by the time you’re off, but if not, I want you to call George Lyman.” He handed her a card. “He’s a veteran cop. He’ll escort you to my house and keep watch until I’m back. You’ll need this too.” He handed her his house key.

  Taking it slowly from his outstretched hand, she wondered if he’d had an extra made or if it was off his key ring. It wouldn’t have mattered either way, she reminded herself. It wasn’t like he was giving it to her as a suggestion she move in with him. She cursed herself again.

  “It will be okay, Sydney.”

  He thought she was just worried about the attacker. What would he do if he knew what she was really thinking? Run for the hills, probably. “I’m okay. And I’m sorry about falling apart before.”

  “It’s not a problem.” He leaned forward and, for a minute, she thought he’d reach out to touch her, but he didn’t.

  “Well, it is. I know you think I’m weak—”

  “I don’t—”

  “Let me finish!”

  He jerked, but there was a faint smile as he sat back.

  She huffed out a breath. “I’m sorry. I just… In college I was naive and timid. I know that. And you’re a part of what helped me overcome it. But I’ve grown. I’m stronger now.”

  “I see that.”

  “It’s important to me that you do.” She wasn’t sure why she made that admission, but there was no taking it back now that it was out.

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “I know you blame me for letting my parents persuade me to postpone the wedding. But I’m not a twenty-one-year-old coed anymore. I make my own decisions.”

  His lips twitched upward. “Your parents probably didn’t like that you came here. Where I am.”

  She was entering slippery ground. To some extent, he was right. But not in the way he meant. “They’re parents. They have the same concern about my seeing you that your sister and probably your parents do. And it’s not that we’ll fall in love again.”

  His face blanched. She wanted to be hurt by the idea that being in love with her would cause such a reaction, but the sight of his pale grimacing face made her laugh instead. “They’re all worried we’ll get hurt.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “No.” She bit her lower lip to stop the laugh. “Mitch, I’m also not stupid.”

  “I didn’t—”

  She held up a hand again. “You interrupt more than I remember.”

  He sat back, nearly pouting.

  “I know it hurts you to see me, and I’m sorry for that. I’d do anything to make that go away. I’d love to be friends…
maybe even with benefits.” She didn’t want him to have too much time to respond to that, so she hurried on. “But you don’t have to worry that I want more than that. I respect that you’re a confirmed bachelor.” A knock on the door let her know she needed to get to her next appointment. “I have a patient.”

  He stood and looked like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

  “I think you’re wasting your time going to Washington. Patrick has been a dear friend since I was a child. I trust him implicitly. But I understand you have to cover all bases, and maybe he knows something that could help.” She smiled, a little pleased that Mitch, for once, didn’t have anything to say.

  “I can make you dinner when you get back.” Sydney left her office and headed to exam room three, pulling the file out of the cubby hanging on the door. She pushed thoughts of Mitch away, instead, taking in the name and brief information of the woman she was about to see.

  She heard Mitch leave her office and glanced at him as he walked up the corridor until reaching the T, where he turned right to leave. She caught his fleeting look and perplexed expression. It was better than the usual look he gave her.

  She turned back to the file and opened the door. “Hello, Mrs. Claymore.”

  Mitch sat in his police car, one arm draped over the steering wheel, and gazed at nothing outside the window, mulling over what had just happened. He’d gone to tell Sydney he was heading to Washington and to give her George’s information in case he didn’t get back in time. Somehow it had morphed into a conversation about the past and their relationship. That part wasn’t surprising, as it seemed like they couldn’t go two minutes without their past coming up. But… did she say friends… with benefits? He shook his head. He must have heard it wrong.

  Sydney wasn’t a prude. When they’d gotten together in college, she had no qualms about a physical relationship with him, but that was because they were in love. Despite being braver and stronger, he didn’t see her as someone to have an affair.

  “Maybe with benefits.” Casual, no-strings-attached sex with Sydney. Could he sleep with her and keep emotion out of it? With the other women, he’d gotten good at it. But Sydney was different from other women. He'd loved her once. He'd planned to spend his life loving only her. Being around her stirred up those feelings. Could those memories break through the wall he’d worked so hard to build? He had some serious thinking to do. As much as he wanted Sydney naked and writhing under him, there was no way he'd ever risk his heart again.

  Shaking his head and refocusing on the task at hand, Mitch started the car and headed north, dreading the long drive. The first part of the trip wound through the fresh-washed spring countryside, newly green with pops of color from crocuses, daffodils, and tulips. The tranquil setting gave him time to think. But he knew the latter part of the drive would be miserable. It didn’t matter what route Mitch took, there was no way to get to the nation’s capitol without enduring traffic. In Charlotte Tavern, the only traffic slowdowns involved school buses or tractors.

  Mitch made the best of the trip by attaching his phone to the aux plug in the car and turning on his alternative rock playlist.

  He made good time to Interstate 95 in Fredericksburg, which had its own share of annoying traffic. But the northbound lanes were moving at a decent clip. He got off at Route 1, crossing the Potomac and hopping on 14th Street. He had to admit, Washington was nice in the spring. As he passed the Ellipse and the White House, he remembered having a tour there as a kid, at an age when the idea of having a bowling alley in his house was cool.

  He pulled into the front drive of the hotel and stopped the car. He cursed when he remembered he’d have to pay for valet parking, which had to be close to $50 without tip.

  “Good morning, sir.” The valet smiled and waited for the keys.

  Mitch vacillated about whether or not to show his badge. But it wouldn’t get him out of paying the parking fee, and it might put the hotel staff on guard. Mitch handed him the keys. “I’m just here for part of the day.”

  “Yes, sir.” The valet handed him a ticket.

  Mitch pocketed the ticket and entered the hotel. It was like walking into a city unto itself, with a large, ornate lobby and men and women in blue power suits scurrying about. It was the type of place Mitch suspected Sydney stayed in. That or nicer. Mitch, on the other hand, was a budget motel guy, when he needed one. He didn’t travel much. Most of his overnights away, he camped. Did Sydney camp? The woman he’d known in college wouldn’t have liked the bugs and dirt. But, maybe that had changed too. He wondered if she’d be interested in going to Potters Creek with him. He’d nearly asked her when he saw the painting in her office but stopped himself, worried about blurring the emotional lines. Of course, since she mentioned friends with benefits, he found himself closer and closer to stepping over the line.

  He came across someone wearing a hotel badge and asked for directions to the psychiatry conference. By the time Mitch located the room, only a handful of people were gathered at the front. Patrick Andres wasn’t one of them.

  Mitch approached, sizing them up to determine the best approach. The two men dressed in dark suits looked more like FBI agents than shrinks. The woman wore a navy dress. Had they conferred on their attire? Mitch opted to play the good cop with them to learn about Patrick’s movements the last two days. The southern sentiment about catching more flies with sugar than vinegar was true, especially in police work.

  Deciding he didn’t want to come off as some hick, he cleared his throat and mentally practiced toning down his accent. It was a trick he learned in college and later in the military when he discovered some people equated a southern accent with a lack of intelligence.

  “Excuse me.” He approached them with a smile, hands on his hips, pushing his jacket back far enough so they’d be able to see the badge clipped to his belt. “Are you with the psychiatry conference?”

  The three looked up. Only the woman smiled as she gave him an appreciative full-body scan. Seeing it, Mitch smiled back. In another time and place, he might have asked her out for a drink. One of the men, an older gentleman, frowned as his eyes caught site of Mitch’s badge.

  The third stepped forward. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes. I’m Detective Mitch McKenna.” Mitch extended his hand toward the man who stepped forward.

  “Doctor Gerald Sykes. This is Doctor Faye and Doctor Lloyd.” Doctor Sykes nodded toward the woman and then the older gentleman. “Do you need a consult?”

  Mitch shook his head but continued to smile, hoping his affable attitude kept them off guard. “I was hoping to find Doctor Patrick Andres.”

  “Oh, really?” Doctor Lloyd’s tone immediately turned suspicious.

  Mitch waved his hand to dismiss their concern. “Don’t worry. I’m just here because he’s a witness and I need information.”

  “Witness? To what?” Doctor Faye’s smile faded slightly.

  “I can’t really go into detail. It involves a close friend of his and an incident yesterday.”

  “Doctor Andres was here yesterday.”

  “Yes? What time did he get here?”

  The three looked at each other, brows pulled together as if trying to decide if they should answer.

  To help them, Mitch said, “It’s possible he didn’t witness anything. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Why not call him?”

  “Do you do counseling by phone? I doubt it. You get so much more information by talking in person. And since this involves a friend of his, I felt it better to see him.”

  “He checked in a few minutes before the morning keynote.” Doctor Faye hadn’t referred to a sign-in sheet, making Mitch wonder how she was sure.

  “Did you check him in?”

  “I was at the table when he arrived.” Something in her voice made Mitch wonder if Doctor Faye had a thing with Doctor Andres. If so, that changed things. His theory that Patrick was a lover scorned would be bunk.

  “I see. Was he here
all day yesterday?”

  “I don’t see how this is relevant.”

  “Like I said, if he was here all day, he couldn’t have been a witness. Any chance he bowed out? Maybe he was worried about his friend?”

  “I saw him in the morning sessions.”

  “What about at lunch?” Mitch knew that if Patrick was involved, he’d have left the conference around lunch to get to Charlotte Tavern in time to attack Jenny.

  “I didn’t see him, but that doesn’t mean anything. There are several hundred of us.” Doctor Sykes gathered papers, stuffing in them in a worn briefcase.

  “I had dinner with him,” Doctor Faye said a little too nonchalantly.

  “What time was that?”

  “Oh, about seven.”

  Mitch did mental math. If Patrick left at lunch, drove to Charlotte Tavern, attacked Jenny and then drove back, he could be back by seven, even considering traffic.

  “Anyone see him around three?”

  “We were all in session.”

  “I think he said he attended the juvenile justice session,” Doctor Faye said.

  Doctor Sykes frowned. “I was in that one, and I didn’t see him.”

  The hairs on the back of Mitch’s neck tingled. “Do you know where he is now?”

  “We’ve broke for lunch. I don’t know what his plans are.”

  Mitch wondered why Doctor Faye wasn’t dining with him. “I guess I can wait until he gets back. What time is that?”

  Doctor Lloyd’s mouth drew into a thin line of distaste. “We don’t meet back until two. Perhaps you can try his room.”

  Mitch smiled and kept his voice light and friendly. “I would, but that’s not information a hotel gives out unless I have a warrant, which I don’t have because Doctor Andres isn’t a suspect. He’s a witness.” Would a group of forensic psychiatrists know he was lying?

  “He’s in a suite.” Doctor Faye looked away as she rattled off the room number.

  The two men glanced at Doctor Faye, with the same curiosity Mitch felt. To Doctor Faye’s credit, her face remained impassive when she turned back to them.