Guilty as Sin

by Jami Alden

  “On top of that he had two ruptured disks in his back,” Erin continued.

  “And enough Oxy in his system to make sure he was feeling no pain,” CJ said.

  Erin shrugged. “Even if he’d regained consciousness, does it really seem possible that he could have driven down that road, all the way to the Becketts’ house on the lake without crashing into something? Then drag an able-bodied boy from the house, get him back to his place, and then drag him another hundred yards to the hunting shack where he was killed?”

  A knot settled in the pit of Kate’s stomach. While inconclusive, everything Erin said made sense. “Someone else could have stolen the truck,” she murmured, almost to herself.

  “I left it in the driveway with the keys in the ignition. It certainly wouldn’t have been difficult,” Erin said. She swallowed hard. “And I know this isn’t a popular opinion to express, especially in this town, and Kate, I hope you’ll forgive me, but for all of his faults and bad behavior, Uncle Emerson—the way he hurt your brother…”

  Kate nodded. She knew exactly what Erin was talking about.

  “Emerson wasn’t wired that way, at least, I don’t believe he was. He was a bastard to most people, but he was always sweet to me and my brothers, no matter how drunk or stoned he got.”

  Kate saw the sadness in Erin’s eyes. As much as Emerson might have been a drunk and a derelict, it was clear Erin had had affection for the man. All these years Kate had never once considered that Michael wasn’t the only innocent victim in what had happened.

  CJ scrubbed his hand over his chin. “If everything you’re saying is true—”

  “I wouldn’t lie—” Erin snapped, immediately on the defensive.

  CJ held up a hand. “Scratch that. Assuming what you say is true and the former sheriff fell down on this investigation, this still doesn’t give us anything that points us in the direction of another suspect, or if he’s connected to Tricia’s kidnapper.”

  They let out a collective, frustrated sigh, then Erin grabbed the customer activity report off the printer and handed it to CJ. “Hopefully you’ll find something in here that will help. I’ll let you know if I think of anything else that I didn’t tell you.”

  Kate and Tommy stood and followed Erin back to the main room. The place was still mostly empty, but a few customers had taken seats at the bar. As they started toward the door, she heard Erin say, “Hey look, Tommy, you’re on TV!”

  Kate automatically turned to the bar, surprised when instead of footage of him storming away from reporters from earlier in the week, there was a picture of Tommy in his football uniform from Idaho State.

  The feed switched back to the anchor, and Kate felt her stomach flip over when she recognized Walsh. Then it started to churn as the screen flashed a picture of a teenage Kate. “Can you turn it up?” she asked Erin.

  “… to sources Kate Beckett and Tomas Ibarra had struck up a summer romance the summer Beckett’s brother, Michael, was kidnapped and murdered. Those familiar with the case will remember that Beckett was left in charge of her brother that night, but it was not widely reported that Beckett was with Ibarra at the time her brother disappeared.”

  “Crap.” Kate swallowed, feeling like the floor was shifting under her. It was okay, she tried to tell herself. No, it wasn’t going to be fun to have to live through all of this again, but this was old news.

  As long as they didn’t find out about—“Now, in what is a shocking development, particularly given Beckett’s recent history, it looks as though she and Ibarra have rekindled their romance.”

  Kate heard Tommy swear viciously next to her, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the huge TV screen. It showed a couple locked in a passionate embrace. Though the video was grainy and the couples’ faces were partially obscured, Kate knew without a doubt she was looking at security camera footage from the hospital.

  The shot cut to Tommy, in front of her townhouse earlier that morning.

  She didn’t even get the words out before his voice came blaring out of the TV speakers: “I’m having a sexual relationship with Kate Beckett.”

  Kate stared, dumbstruck, as the feed went back to the reporter. The blood in her head roared so hard she could only make out snippets of the reporter’s commentary, though the pictures flashing up, first of Graham Hewitt, then Madeline Drexler, helped to fill in the blanks. The feed went back to the reporter, and she and the male anchor exchanged banter.

  “In this case I guess we should all be thankful Beckett’s sex life didn’t result in greater tragedy, but I have to wonder how St. Anthony’s will feel about her continuing as their primary spokesperson.”

  Her conversation with Ron Weaver, chairman of the board of St. Anthony’s, echoed through her brain. If you make even one misstep, Kate, it will be disaster for us and for you. It was like she’d looked into the face of Medusa and been turned to stone as she stood stock still in the middle of Erin’s restaurant and felt her world fall apart around her.

  It was over. Within the next hour, the story would be all over the country.

  “Kate.” She heard Tommy’s voice in her ear, felt the brush of his hand against her wrist. Her first instinct was to turn to him, grab his hand, and never let go.

  Then brutal reality came slamming home and she jerked her arm away as though burned. “Don’t.”

  “Goddammit, Kate, you know they edited that to make it look worse than it was.”

  “Really? Because that sure looked like me making out with you in the hospital while Tricia Fuller was unconscious down the hall,” Kate yelled, heedless of Erin and CJ watching them, wide eyed, while the other restaurant patrons stared transfixed.

  “Let’s go somewhere and talk about this like reasonable people,” Tommy said quietly.

  But Kate was beyond reason. All of the sudden she was a sixteen-year-old girl, staring at the boy who made her so crazy with lust and need and, God help her, love that he made her lose all semblance of control. Until she was hurling herself headlong at him, damn the consequences.

  Never mind that she’d already learned the brutal lesson that the way Tommy Ibarra made her feel led to nothing but disaster and destruction.

  “Just leave me alone.”

  Tommy caught her by the shoulders and pinned her with a hard stare. She flinched at the pain that flared in his dark eyes along with a helplessness that matched her own. “We can get through this. It doesn’t matter what anyone say—”

  “No,” Kate said, jerking out of his hold. “This is just like what happened with Graham and Madeline—”

  She tried to get away but Tommy held her fast. “What are you talking about? We found Tricia! Nobody died!”

  “And I’m grateful for that,” she cried, wrenching from his hold. “But you have no idea what this will do to me, my reputation.”

  “Of course you care more about that than you do about me,” he bit out. “How could I ever expect any of that to change?”

  It was so much more complicated than that, but right now she didn’t have the energy to fight him. “I need you to stay away. Just stay away from me. Every time I let you get too close, I end up losing everything.”

  He recoiled as though from a blow.

  Though her body felt like it had gone numb, somehow she made it to the door, ignoring the stares of the other customers. She stepped out on the sidewalk, squinting in the early evening sunlight. As she fumbled in her bag for her sunglasses, she felt someone touch her arm.

  She instinctively jerked away. “Leave me—”

  “Kate, it’s me.”

  Kate’s hackles lowered when she looked up into CJ’s concerned blue eyes. “I’m sorry about the scene, sorry about the mess this is going to cause,” she began.

  CJ shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize to me. Come on, let me give you a lift back to your place before the vultures get wind of your location.”

  Kate followed him blindly to his cruiser. As she slid into the passenger seat, all of the lingering
aches from the last few days came back into searing focus, leaving her feeling as bruised and battered as if she’d gone twelve rounds in the ring.

  How could she have been so stupid, letting her defenses down for even a second? Once again he had made her completely lose her head, abandon every shred of common sense. Even knowing what would happen if the press got wind of them, Kate hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d thrown herself headlong into their affair, unable to think of anything but him and the wild, crazy desire he stirred in her soul.

  Because of her recklessness, she was about to lose everything. Her reputation, the career she’d worked so hard to build. Not to mention the fragile peace she’d made with what had happened to Michael. Once again it was going to be front and center, twenty-four/seven, but with a special new twist as the real truth of what happened that night came to light.

  You’re nothing but a spoiled brat who let her brother get kidnapped and murdered. Her father’s words scorched through her brain, peeling back scar tissue until the wounds were as fresh and raw as the day it had happened.

  And for what? Tommy, for all his big talk about wanting to see her, hadn’t exactly made any promises. Wanting to “see where this might go” was hardly something any woman with more than two brain cells to rub together would risk the very foundation of her life for.

  CJ answered a call on the radio and turned onto First Avenue. “Tommy’s a stand-up guy,” he said when he got off the call. “You know you can’t blame him for what happened.”

  “I don’t,” Kate snapped. “I don’t blame anyone but myself, for being stupid enough to get carried away. I knew what would happen if it came out that we were sleeping together. I knew it would be a disaster.”

  CJ gave her a skeptical look. “Don’t you think you’re being a little melodramatic? It might be headline news for a little while, but eventually something else will catch their interest—”

  Kate shook her head wearily. “It’s not just the media frenzy, though trust me, you can’t really comment unless you’ve had every aspect of your life dissected. It’s the collateral damage—” As though on cue, her phone gave a shrill ring.

  Kate’s stomach flipped as she recognized the number on the screen. “Hello, Ron.”

  “Kate.” Ron Weaver, chairman of the board of directors for St. Anthony’s, managed to instill enough gravity into that one syllable that Kate would have known he was about to deliver bad news even if she hadn’t been fully expecting it.

  “I assume you’ve seen the news,” Kate said.

  “Yes. And in light of what happened last year with Graham Hewitt and the Madeline Drexler case, it’s no longer in our best interests to have you working with us on a day-to-day basis, particularly as our key community outreach representative.”

  “Of course,” Kate said, oddly calm now that the blow had been delivered. She listened and gave the appropriate responses as he discussed the details of her termination. “If that’s all—” she said.

  “Well, there is another matter we need to discuss.” Gravity gave way to uneasiness in Weaver’s tone. “While we feel that it’s no longer appropriate for you to work with us in such a public fashion, your family has been incredibly generous with the foundation over the years…”

  Kate’s mouth pulled into a humorless smile. “No need to worry. My family will continue its support. And of course we’ll make up for any shortfall should you lose donors over this.” She would do whatever she could to mitigate the damage caused by her recklessness. Even if her father decided to pull his support in light of the scandal, Kate’s personal trust fund could more than cover the annual donation.

  By the time CJ reached her townhouse, the press had already amassed outside. Getting to the front door was like walking a gantlet, and she was grateful for CJ’s size as he tucked her behind him and helped her push her way through the hive of microphones and shouted questions.

  “What happens now?” CJ asked as he ushered her into her entry, closed the door, and locked it for good measure.

  His question brought a sudden piercing memory to the forefront, of herself, lying in Tommy’s arms just last night, asking the exact same question. She shoved it away and focused on CJ. “Now that I’m no longer officially employed by the foundation, there’s no rush for me to get back to Los Angeles.” Coward that she was, part of her wanted to get as far away from Sandpoint and Tommy Ibarra as quickly as possible.

  And this time she’d stay gone for good.

  But there were questions to answer, matters far more important than her public humiliation. “I’m not leaving until I find out once and for all what happened to my brother.”

  CJ nodded. “I’m not going to officially reopen the investigation—” He held his hand up to silence her when Kate would have protested. “The key word here is ‘officially,’ ” he said. “With everything going on, there’s going to be enough rehashing of Michael’s murder as it is. If it gets out that we’re taking another look at his case based on evidence from Tricia, it will be like gasoline on a fire. I don’t want to risk tipping anyone off.”

  “Makes sense. So what can I do to help?”

  CJ shifted uncomfortably. “No offense, but with all the media frenzy around you, it might be best if you did leave town—”

  “Out of the question.”

  “In that case, the best way to help is to lay low and keep your mouth shut about what we’ve found out, sit tight, and wait to hear from us.”

  “But I can give you information about who was around that summer, brainstorm a list of potential leads—”

  “I was around that summer too, and so was Tommy. And anything I need from you I can get over the phone when I need it,” CJ said calmly.

  Kate’s shoulders slumped in defeat. CJ pulled her in for a quick hug and Kate weakly returned it. He felt nice, big, strong, solid, smelling pleasantly of laundry starch and soap.

  But there was no rush of heat, no sensation of uncontrollable need pulling her to him like a magnet. No need to pull him down the hall to her bedroom, wrap her arms and legs around him and not let him go until he promised to love her forever and never leave her side.

  No, that kind of reaction happened only with Tommy. And she couldn’t afford to ever feel it again. As exhilarating as it could be, the idea of losing control like that again and the consequences that followed made her throat tight with fear. This time it had cost her her career—relatively mild when compared to what had happened before. But who knew how many ways she could screw up in the future?

  She stepped away, blinking back the tears. Tonight, alone in her bed, she could cry, but right now she didn’t want to fall apart in front of CJ.

  He started for the front door and paused. “I know you’ve got it in your head that you plus Tommy equals disaster, but if you really care about each other like I think you do, it seems like a shame to let it go because of a little bit of bad luck,” he said, and shut the door behind him.

  Chapter 27

  Tommy barely remembered the drive back to his house, he was reeling so hard from the impact of Kate’s words. Every time I let you get too close, I end up losing everything.

  He felt ripped wide open, instantly regressing back to that foolish nineteen-year-old, blindsided and laid out by her rejection.

  What a fucking idiot, he cursed himself as he stormed into his office and flipped open his laptop. He never should have opened himself up, and especially not to her. He should have learned that lesson the first time, learned to think with his head instead of his dick.

  Face it, dude, with Kate, your heart has always been as much involved as your dick. You wanted more from her than a quick fuck. You always have.

  Yeah, and he should have accepted it a long time ago that he was never going to get it, rather than stepping into the ring for another go-round guaranteed to end up as bad as the last time.

  Well, he conceded as he opened up the file on Tavers International and started running a trace on the bank that handled the i
nitial real estate transaction, it didn’t end up quite as tragically as last time. This time no one was killed, and Tommy was immune to the wrath of Kate’s father. Kate might be devastated by the prospect of another scandal, but deep down, Tommy knew that wasn’t the real reason she was pushing him away.

  Michael had been killed, and that, Tommy knew, was the true source of Kate’s reaction.

  Tommy also knew that without the other tragedy between them, they could have worked through the ugliness together. But it was there, lying between them like a stone wall. No matter what Kate said about new starts and second chances while she was lying in his arms, when the shit came down, it was clear she would never forgive Tommy for the role he’d played that night.

  Not that she blamed him, at least not nearly as much as Tommy knew he deserved. No, she was too busy blaming herself. Blaming herself for giving in to her feelings for Tommy. For allowing herself to get swept up in the crazy joyride that took over whenever they got close to one another.

  It would always be there, always between them. Always guaranteeing that when the shit hit the fan, her first instinct would be to push him away rather than draw him closer.

  Even an idiot knew you didn’t put your hopes on a woman who runs scared at the first sign of trouble. But acknowledging that truth didn’t make the ache in Tommy’s chest any less severe. Didn’t stop him from wishing there was some way he could convince her to push all the noise of this latest media storm aside and embrace what he knew to be true.

  That he loved her, and she loved him. That was all that should matter.

  Logically, he knew it could never be that simple. But that didn’t stop him from picking up his phone and dialing her number before he could stop himself. Didn’t stop the hope from flickering in his gut that she’d pick up, give him an opening.

  With each ring that went unanswered that flicker faded, until his call went to voicemail and snuffed it out completely.

  He didn’t bother to leave a message.

  Idiot. Tommy turned back to the screen. But it was impossible for him to concentrate as his brain crowded with memories of working with Kate sitting across the office. Staring at her over his breakfast table just that morning, the taste of her still fresh on his lips.