by Joya Fields
“No, thank you, sir,” Logan said. “I need to get to headquarters to file a report and answer some questions. I’ll change there.” He glanced at her. “Okay to postpone our trip to the city jail?”
She blinked, then nodded. “Yeah.” She’d totally forgotten about that.
“What about the young man who was shot?” Ben asked, looking at Logan.
Only her dad—with his forgiving attitude and willingness to look at the good in a person—would call the shooter a young man.
Logan’s jaw tightened. “Dead before the ambulance got to the hospital. He was one of the kids Mrs. Beyer caught on her cell phone photo. Chayce Wilson.”
“And the other one? The one who took off in a car?” her father asked.
“Lenny Harper, presumably. We ran the tag. Stolen car. We’re looking for it now.” He glanced at Keely. “Quick thinking back there to take pictures, by the way. I couldn’t see the last two numbers from where I stood.”
Keely nodded, but remained silent.
“Dave, Charlie,” Logan continued, “Detective Dunnigan is outside. He’d like to talk with both of you.” Logan sounded more like he was issuing an order than a request.
Both men looked surprised, but then stood and said good-bye to her dad before heading to the foyer for their coats.
“I’ll be right out.” Logan closed the door behind the men and then turned to Keely and Ben. “I’ll let you know when we catch the other kid. Dave seems to know a lot of neighborhood kids, so maybe he’s heard of these two, which is what Dunnigan wants to ask him.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Her father’s sad eyes and Logan’s compassion made Keely want to run to her room and have a good cry. She would not break down in front of both of them. She needed to stay strong for her father. She inhaled and held the breath, filled her lungs with humid air.
“I appreciate your help.” Ben gestured with his chin toward Beatrice. “And thanks for finding a bodyguard for me. You were right, we should have had someone here.”
“Beatrice has good instincts.”
The woman raised a brow in answer and glanced back out the window.
Logan moved beside Keely. “Walk me to the door?”
She rubbed her arms to ward off chills and followed him.
“You doing okay?” His gaze bored into her.
She nodded.
“The State Police are heading this case now, since it’s a cop-involved shooting.” Logan kept his voice low, then placed his hands on his hips. “You know what sucks the most about this job?” His brown-eyed gaze met hers.
She shook her head.
“Knowing the good guys don’t always win. But we’ll win this time, Keely.”
The tears she’d been trying to hold back ran freely down her cheeks. Margaret lived unafraid, righteously. And she’d been shot while standing up for what she believed in.
Logan frowned and reached out to cup her chin. His hand warmed her skin and her headache disappeared. He leaned closer, his spearmint breath hot on her cheek.
Her hands itched to reach out, take comfort from his touch.
“I’m sorry our conversation was interrupted in the car.” His husky voice vibrated through her body.
Her head reeled with emotion. She took several shallow breaths in an effort to calm her beating heart. “Me, too.”
“We need to talk. But not right now. Tomorrow?”
For years, he’d let her believe he’d left without a good-bye. She’d blamed him for something that wasn’t his fault. She could wait one more day. “Okay,” she said. “Tomorrow.”
Logan bent and touched his lips to her forehead. She knew he meant it as a gesture to comfort her, but her heart pounded even faster. He rubbed both thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away the tears. The boy she’d grown up with had become a man she could count on. A man who’d stepped in when she needed him to help her through some of the scariest moments of her life.
His jaw tightened and he moved his hands to her shoulders, held her away. Back to cop mode. “I think you should spend the night here tonight instead of at your own house. Wouldn’t hurt to have someone looking out for you, too. I know you want to get to the jail to follow up on Melita, but right now you need to think about your own safety first.”
“I’m not worried about me. I have my mace and I—”
“Keels,” Logan frowned. “We don’t know why your dad was attacked, or why Margaret was shot. Until we know different, assume the same people who shot Margaret Beyer are the ones who attacked your father.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“It means you could be next.”
…
Logan hurried down Ben’s front steps and headed to his SUV. The rain had stopped and stars now dotted the clear October night sky. His wet clothes clung to him in a heavy, sodden mess. Charlie stood with Dunnigan, who leaned on the hood of Logan’s SUV and scribbled something in his notebook before snapping it closed.
“Thanks for your time,” Dunnigan said, giving a curt nod to Dave and Charlie.
Dave stood erect. “I’ll keep asking around to see if any of our kids have heard of those guys…what were their names again?”
“Chayce Wilson and Lenny Harper,” Logan said, stepping up beside Dunnigan. “We appreciate your help.”
After Dave and Charlie headed to their cars, Dunnigan swept his gaze over Logan. “You’re soaked. I need a ride to the station. Let’s crank the heat in your SUV and I’ll fill you in on my conversation on the way over,” he said.
Logan climbed in, turned the key, and switched the heat to the highest setting.
Dunnigan settled in the passenger seat. “How are Ben and Keely?”
“Shaken up, but okay.” Logan pictured Keely’s wide eyes. “I had to put the fear of God into Keely to make sure she knew the threat could be real. The guys who shot Margaret matched the description of the guys who attacked Ben.”
“Hmm,” Dunnigan said, rubbing his hands together close to the heating vent. “Circumstantial evidence. Once we catch the other kid, we’ll know more.”
With the engine idling, Logan squeezed the steering wheel tight enough to whiten his knuckles. He stared at his hands, emotions coursing through him. “I wanted to kill that boy today. He shot an elderly woman and put a child and Keely at risk. Seeing Keely standing by the SUV while gunfire erupted sent chills down my spine.”
“It would take an idiot not to see how much you care for her.”
“We go back a long way, that’s all. We went out in high school.” He sighed. “I dumped her and broke her heart.”
“And broke your own, too, from what I could tell today by how focused you were on her.”
Logan let out a long breath. Quinn and Dunnigan were two friends who knew him well enough to let him vent. “Her mom thought I was bad for her and convinced me that joining the Marines was the best option for us both, so I up and left. Keely has hated me because of that ever since. Until Ben was hurt, we hadn’t spoken in ten years.” He hesitated. “Just before Mrs. Beyer was shot, Keely told me her dad finally spilled the truth about why I left.”
Dunnigan nodded and focused on heating his hands. “You going to ask her out now, or what?”
“No. Keely’s mom wanted what was best for her daughter. Fact was, I agreed. She needed more than I could ever give her. A chance at happiness. Even now.”
“Even now? You sure about that, pal?” Dunnigan stopped rubbing his hands and faced him. “You made detective faster than anyone I know. You make more arrests in a year than most. People respect you. Why couldn’t you be somebody who’s good for her now?”
Logan grimaced. “I haven’t changed. The reason her mom convinced me to get out of her life was because I had a temper. I beat the shit out of a kid. She wants a family of her own. Her own father has made that clear to me, and I’ve seen how she takes care of the kids she works with. I can’t give her that. I’m not husband or parent material. I don’t deserve to be a father.”
&
nbsp; “Because of your dad?” Dunnigan asked.
Images of his father—the drunken beatings for no reason, the belt coming down on his bare legs, his mother’s bruised and battered face—shot through his mind. These traits traveled from generation to generation. He’d found that out the hard way.
“As much as I’d like to believe I could overcome my past, prove I can be better than my father, that isn’t happening.” He faced Dunnigan. “It’s more than the kid I beat up in high school, or the allegations last winter of excessive force.”
Dunnigan shot him a hard look. “You’re talking about the boy in Afghanistan.”
Logan swore quietly. The kid’s face was forever burned in his brain. “That episode is proof I can’t control my temper.”
“Let it go. Live your life.”
Everyone else always let him off the hook. Forgave him. But he wouldn’t forgive himself. He couldn’t.
“Thanks for the pep talk.” He threw the SUV into gear. “Better get you to the station and get my ass into a meeting with the captain so I can explain the details of this shooting today.”
“Fine. Go ahead. Change the subject.”
“Tell me about those two church friends of Ben’s.” He hadn’t expected his friend to get additional information out of the two church employees when he’d suggested to Dunnigan to speak with the men. He was more interested in Dunnigan’s gut opinion of them. His friend’s background included a psychology degree. Specifically, human behavior.
“Dave and Charlie are tough to figure out. They seem willing to help. Dave likes to run things, likes to be in charge. Charlie’s not too bright, and seems to be more of a background guy.”
“With something to hide,” Logan said, steering the SUV into traffic. “He refused to open his briefcase for us when we asked.”
“The church angle and briefcases are likely a dead end. With Mrs. Beyer’s shooting, Ben’s attack is looking more and more like he interrupted a robbery by local drug dealers.”
“Yeah. I was starting to figure the same thing. Thanks. I appreciate your help. I want to see this case wrapped up before I head out of town,” he said.
“Taking the desk job in Texas?”
Logan was thankful when his cell phone rang just then. He pulled it out to look at the display. “It’s Jacko.”
“Your snitch?” Dunnigan asked.
“His information was no good the other day. Let’s see if he has anything interesting this time.”
Chapter Nine
Keely left her father under Beatrice’s care and headed upstairs to take a shower, her heart aching at the glazed look on her father’s face. Now, in spite of her earlier desperate need to cry, the hot water steamed away her raw emotions and the heat eased her physical and mental pains. Her gut curled with pain, but the tears wouldn’t come.
The briefcase…a missing girl…a beating…a shooting. Too much bad, not enough good.
Frustrated, she turned off the water, dried off, then threw on a pair of old jeans and a soft sweatshirt and headed back down to the living room.
Her dad’s bloodshot eyes halted her in place. She bit her bottom lip and pressure built in her head—the tears that wanted to flow. She nodded to Beatrice and sat on the end of the sofa closest to her dad’s recliner.
He stared at the television in a daze.
“Dad,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “Is there anything you need?”
Her father sighed and shook a finger at her. “You don’t need to hover over me. You should stay the night, though. I know today was hard on you, too. It’s safe here. Beatrice has a gun, you know.”
Beatrice thumped the gun at her side. “And I raised two teenage boys. Trust me, I can handle anything.”
Keely smiled for the first time all day. “Dave offered to come over again. He said he’d spend the night, if you need him.”
“No, don’t bother him,” her dad said, yawning. He leaned his head against the cushioned chair. He’d probably be asleep in an hour.
She thought about Logan’s words earlier. Anyone who wasn’t ruled out as a suspect was a suspect. The entire congregation, not to mention all of their neighbors and friends, would remain suspects until the police were able to eliminate them.
Her dad tried to lift the edges of his mouth to form a small smile, but didn’t succeed. “I called the hospital,” he said, folding his hands over his robe. “Margaret is in a coma. The bullet was something called a through and through. It’s the injury to her skull—possibly her brain—that put her in a coma.”
Keely pinched the bridge of her nose. A visual of Margaret’s body slamming against the brick exterior raced through her mind. She steadied herself with a deep breath. “She’s a fighter, Dad. She makes the world a better place by standing up to injustice. Maybe a coma is her body’s way of forcing her to rest for a few days. I’ll check on her tomorrow. She might not know I’m there, but I will be.”
“Thanks, honey.” He braced his arms on the side of the chair, struggling to stand. Once erect, he kissed her cheek. “I’m going to bed now.”
She hugged him gently, aware of his bruised body and heart. “Goodnight, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you, too.” He shuffled along the floor and out of sight.
She moved her laptop into the dining room and busied herself checking e-mails and phone messages. There were three messages from Nevaeh asking how she was doing. She texted her friend, assured her she was okay, and set to work. She and Logan hadn’t had a chance to visit the jail today, and if Ricardo Padilla had been able to come up with bail money, he might be home by now.
Children deserved a chance, and if their parents wouldn’t give it to them, then Keely would do her best for them. Her mind kept coming back to the little girl who was missing. She had to find her.
Her cell phone rang. Nevaeh.
“What’s up?” She leaned back in the dining room chair and stretched to get the kinks out of her body.
“I know you’ve had a terrible day, and I hate to make it rougher…”
Keely bolted upright. Not more bad news. “What is it?”
“Remember the abusive dad in court the other day? The one with the kids named Ava and Tommy?”
Of course she remembered. She’d been livid at the judge’s decision. “Yes.” The word came out breathy and hesitant, because she had a feeling she didn’t want this conversation to continue. Didn’t want to know whatever it was Nevaeh had called to tell her.
“The dad reported Ava as a runaway a few hours ago.”
Keely’s gut lurched. “Another runaway?”
“I’ve alerted the police. Sorry, Keely. But I thought you’d want to know.”
Ava’s smiling face filled her mind. The little girl had done so well in her temporary foster home. She’d had a real chance. “Thanks, Nevaeh. I appreciate the call.”
They disconnected and Keely stared despondently at her computer screen.
Beatrice walked by, a cup of coffee in hand. “Your dad’s snoring quietly, safe in his bed,” she said. “I’m on my third cup of coffee and wide awake.”
“Thanks, Beatrice.” Thank God for that woman.
She could go upstairs to her old bedroom and stare at the ceiling all night. Because there was no way after witnessing Margie’s shooting and getting the news about Ava that she would get any sleep.
Or, she could go to Logan.
Give in to this growing need to be with him. He could make her forget this day of bad events and terrible news.
As much as she hated to admit it, she needed him. Craved the comfort of his arms.
She glanced up the stairs to her old bedroom door. She couldn’t be alone tonight, but she couldn’t be with the man she wanted, either.
An inner voice whispered Why not?
The things that had kept them apart didn’t exist any longer. He’d walked out on her, but there had been a reason. All that was in the past.
But what was in the present was the fact that when things got
tough, Logan North took off. Ten years ago he’d left her when her mother had told him he should go, without even telling her.
Logan gave up and solved his problems by leaving.
She’d been left too many times in the past and couldn’t bear to have a hole in her life where Logan should be.
But she was damned tired of fighting the need to be with him. They’d each kept secrets from each other, but they couldn’t any longer. Too much depended on honesty.
Besides, she’d learned something today. Something important. Margaret had lived life the way she wanted to. And yet, one minute the woman was drinking tea on the living room sofa, and the next, she’d been shot and lay near-dead against the wall of her own home.
Life was too short. Too short for lies and secrets.
And for keeping feelings locked inside.
Keely packed up, grabbed her car keys from the hook near the front door, and rattled them between her fingers. Don’t be a sissy.
No chance. She’d go get what she wanted—what she needed.
Sure, Logan would leave. But he wasn’t leaving tonight.
“Beatrice, I’m going out for a bit.” She knew Logan’s address. Had noticed the address in her dad’s contact list, the number and street forever burned in her mind.
The bodyguard scribbled something on a sheet of paper. “My cell number. Text me if you’re not coming home tonight so I know you’re safe.”
Keely smiled. How the heck did she get so lucky to have so many wonderful people around her? She’d been dealt a crappy biological family, but over and over again, people came into her life and renewed her faith in mankind.
Ten minutes later, her head spun with indecision. Decelerating, she downshifted and made the turn into Logan’s neighborhood, then steered her car to the front of his row house. Common sense told her she should drive away as fast as possible.
No.
She wanted to be with him tonight. In every possible way a man and woman could be together. Her hands shook at the thought of touching him…of his hands on her body. Nervous or not, she was going to see this through.
