by Robin Caroll
Maddox lifted a single brow at her before he turned to his partner. "Yeah. Coming." He moved alongside Detective Wallace. Together, they followed Alana.
Layla swallowed. Hard. She hauled in a deep breath, then released it slowly before trailing them. So much had been in Maddox's glare. Distrust . . . accusation . . . loathing. All unwarranted, but his scrutiny had unnerved her just the same.
Yet she hadn't looked away first. At least she'd won that unspoken challenge.
But what would she lose now?
FIVE
"The best way out is always through."
—ROBERT FROST
SHE WASN'T REALLY STRIKINGLY attractive. Not dainty and petite like her sister—more lean and toned and athletically built. But something about Layla Taylor definitely grabbed his interest. Didn't really surprise him. He found most ladies interested him in some form or fashion.
And Layla Taylor was hot. At least to him.
Maddox sat in the chair opposite Houston, with the two sisters sharing a couch between his partner and him. Easier for them to observe the facial expressions of the sisters.
"You have no idea why someone would have been in the house?" Houston asked.
"No." Layla flipped her shoulder-length dirty blonde hair over her shoulder. As she did, a whiff of a spicy scent teased Maddox's nostrils.
He liked women. Lots of women. While Layla Taylor definitely appealed to him, she was different. It was as if just being in the room with her hit him in the gut or something. He didn't like it. Made him feel weak. Reminded him of Julie. He wouldn't go there again. Last time he'd allowed himself to be wrapped up in a woman, his mother had died. He no longer let himself be distracted by any woman. He inhaled slowly and focused on her sister. "Do you?"
Alana's eyes widened. "Of course not."
"Why would she know anything? She wasn't ever on the site." Layla's hands were balled on her lap.
A defensive gesture. Maddox's instinct rose. Why was she so defensive? He kept his face neutral as he dared to meet her eyes.
Huge mistake. An exotic green color, her eyes tilted up in the outer corners. They snatched Maddox's attention no matter how hard he fought to ignore them. Especially now, when something flickered in them, making them appear to glimmer under the afternoon sunlight stealing in through the windows.
"Our records indicate that some of the workers on the site were staying here," Houston said.
Alana licked her lips. "Yes, that's correct. The work-release program has been very successful for the Second Chances' residents. After they complete their initial sessions and the therapist believes they're ready to start the process of returning to society, we pair them up with tradesmen. It's kind of an apprenticeship program."
"How long has this working program been in effect?" Houston held a pencil over his notebook.
Alana shrugged. "We started it a year after we opened. So for about two years now."
Maddox leaned forward. "Any problems?"
She licked her lips again—a definite nervous gesture. "One or two, but nothing major."
"Every program has glitches. Especially in the beginning," Layla interjected.
Maddox forced his eyebrow to stay in place and concentrated on Alana. "What kind of problems?"
"One of the residents stole tools from some carpenters." Alana smoothed her palms over her jeans. "Of course, we recovered most of them."
"And what they didn't, Alana reimbursed the carpenters." Layla's facial features tightened.
"I see." Houston looked up from his note taking. "What else?"
"The only other incident was when a person reverted back to his addictive ways." Alana stared at the worn rug under the coffee table.
What wasn't she saying? Maddox inched to the edge of the chair. "So, you found someone using drugs again?"
"Not exactly." Alana lifted her gaze. "He got high, stole my truck, and left. He caused an accident." Big tears shimmered in her eyes.
Not again. Two crying women in one day?
She sniffed. "He hit a lady and her daughter. Both died."
Layla wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulder and threw daggers at Maddox with her glare. "None of which is your fault."
"I know."
"Bet that one's still doing time," Houston mumbled.
Layla snapped her gaze to him. "No, he committed suicide when he sobered up and realized what he'd done."
Houston cleared his throat. "If I'm understanding correctly, Second Chances has been in operation for three years, right?"
Alana nodded. "Yes. I hired the assistant director, Fred Daly, two years ago. Approved by the federal board who oversees rehab programs such as Second Chances."
"And in that time, you've only had two incidents?"
"Yes."
"Not a bad record." Houston swallowed loudly, which meant he'd finally gotten rid of his gum. "No other problems or issues?"
The sisters glanced at each other. Maddox could almost hear a conversation happening between them. Certainly there were other issues. They just didn't want to talk about them.
He straightened. "Ladies, we're investigating a murder. We need all the information you can give us."
The nudge Layla gave her sister would've been unnoticeable had Maddox not been scrutinizing their body language.
"Ms. Taylor?"
Alana lifted her gaze to meet Maddox's. Her eyes were as blue as her sister's were green. But they didn't captivate his attention. A little gasp slipped through her bow-shaped lips.
He gentled his tone. "Is there anything else you can think of that might possibly be relevant? Even if you don't think it's important?"
She cut her gaze to her sister, then back to him. "We had a bit of an episode yesterday."
This was like pulling wisdom teeth without Novocain. He leaned forward, inviting her to share. "What kind of incident?"
"One of the newer residents backslid a little. He got high and had to be restrained."
Houston looked up from his notepad. "His name?"
"Gavin Benoit. But he can't be involved because he was secure inside our facility after we found him."
"When was this?" Houston asked.
Alana glanced at her sister again. "About one or one thirty."
Layla nodded.
Houston continued to scribble notes.
"Where'd he get the drugs?" Maddox asked.
Both ladies' reactions screamed out to him. Alana's, panicked and fearful—Layla's, hostile and accusing.
Interesting. He pressed on. "Did you find the drugs?"
Alana shook her head. "We searched his room and found nothing. I've opened a full investigation into the incident."
"He was never on the Hope-for-Homes site." Layla spoke with resolve.
Why was she so defensive? Just protective of her sister, or was she hiding something? She certainly wouldn't volunteer anything. But maybe he just hadn't asked the right question yet. "So, he had no connection to any of the construction crews?"
Layla's mouth tightened into a straight line. Score!
"He did some, but as Layla said, not on the Hope-for-Homes site." Alana crossed her legs at the ankle.
Houston stood and slipped the pencil behind his ear. "We'll need all his information, if you don't mind, along with the list of everyone here who worked on the Hope-for-Homes house."
"Sure." Alana stood as well.
Maddox and Layla rose slowly, cautiously, as they eyed one another.
"I'll just go get the information from my office. I'll be right back." Alana walked out of the room and down the hall.
Houston turned to Layla. "We'll also need to come by your office and discuss the house itself. How about Monday around eight?"
"That's fine."
Maddox continued to study her. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and tossed him scathing looks. He swallowed a smile. This was the part of the job he loved—knowing someone hid something and making them extremely nervous until he found out what it wa
s. He could always uncover secrets, no matter how deeply hidden.
He'd find out what Layla Taylor's was.
Soon.
A NEW YEAR . . . a new beginning. New opportunities to do what's right instead of being right.
For two weeks Pastor Chaney had used the same theme for his sermons. Not that Layla didn't enjoy them—she did—but she'd be glad when January drifted into February and Pastor would find a new focus.
Then again, maybe not. February's theme was normally centered on love and relationships. Two issues that didn't necessarily go hand in hand, and ones she definitely didn't want to contemplate too deeply.
She'd failed at both. Miserably.
Alana nudged her forward. The congregation filled the aisle, pushing toward the double mahogany doors to shake Pastor Chaney's hand. The church remodeling had been concluded three months ago, and Layla was still proud of the end result. Everyone said the church looked amazing.
All the bodies caused the temperature of the sanctuary of Eternal Springs Christian Church to rise above a comfortable level. Layla couldn't wait for the January chill to cool her.
She smiled at ladies who gave her curt nods, all too aware that several of the older generation thought her daft for her chosen profession. She smiled wider as Ms. Ethel Thomas grabbed her arm.
"You performing this week, Layla dear?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"You'll do beautifully." Ms. Ethel was so loving. Encouraging. And she'd helped out with Alana after their mother had been admitted to the nursing home.
"Thank you." Layla gave the woman a hug.
Ms. Ethel nodded, then gripped her walker with both hands and made it down the aisle.
Layla followed. Finally she and Alana made it to the narthex.
"Beautiful morning, isn't it, ladies?" Pastor took Layla's hand but included her sister in his smile.
"Very much so." Layla nodded. Maybe with the clearing of the weather, Taylor Construction would get more work. She withdrew her hand and took a step away.
"Heard about that body found in your burned house." His words stopped her. "Just tragic."
Layla squared her shoulders. "It is a tragedy."
"Have the police identified the body yet?"
"Not that I'm aware of." She hitched her purse strap higher on her shoulder. She hated the thing, wouldn't carry one even to church if Alana wasn't so insistent.
Pastor clucked his tongue and shook his head. "Heard some of the residents at Second Chances might be involved." He looked over Layla's shoulder as one of the church elders touched the back of his hand.
Layla turned slightly, just enough to catch the paleness of her sister's face. "I don't think the police believe that. At least not that they've indicated to us."
"Well, I'm praying for a quick resolution." He laid a hand on Alana's shoulder.
"Thank you," Alana whispered. "Good sermon."
"Pastor," the elder interrupted, "both bathrooms have sprung leaks."
"Again?" Pastor sighed, then smiled at Layla and Alana. "Please excuse me."
Layla took hold of her sister's hand and pulled her out into the sunny but crisp morning. "How about a late brunch at the diner?"
Alana frowned as they spilled into the parking lot with the rest of the congregation. "I'm going to see Mom today. Why don't you come with me?"
Little shards of old wounds sliced down Layla's spine. "I don't think so."
"Layla, come on. Don't you think it's time?"
That one thing twisted her emotions into tight knots, and she couldn't make her sister understand. "I'm not ready." Did they always have to have the exact same conversation whenever their mother was brought up?
Alana worried her bottom lip and stopped between their vehicles. "You always say that. It's been years. Time to move on. A new year and all that."
If only Layla could. But the bitterness . . . the resentment . . . wouldn't let her. "Not yet." And she didn't know if she ever could.
She didn't know if she wanted to.
"Scripture tells us to forgive, you know." Alana dug in her purse for her keys.
"Don't start quoting Scripture to me, Al. I'm well aware of what the Bible says." She knew she sounded like a petulant child, but Layla didn't care. She was sick and tired of having the same point drilled into her head, over and over again.
Alana held her keys and stared into Layla's face. "Then why won't you visit Mom with me? Dad forgave her. I've forgiven her. It's only eating at you because you won't."
"I can't." The words nearly strangled her. "We've been over this. I just can't."
Alana tilted her head, held Layla's stare for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh. "One day you'll have to come to terms with Mom and the past. You won't be able to move forward until you do."
Maybe . . . maybe not. She seemed to be just fine without coming to terms with anything. Unless Alana brought her up, Layla never even thought about their mother. What did that say about her as a person?
"Besides, I have to practice this afternoon." She needed to change the subject. "Uh, have you heard from Cameron? When is he supposed to be back in town?"
"Tomorrow." Alana leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Layla's cheek. "I'll call you tonight."
Layla nodded and watched her sister slip into her Jeep and pull out of the church parking lot. She gave a little wave before getting behind the wheel of her truck.
Alana was too good, unlike Layla. She could forgive their mother for her abuse . . . her neglect . . . ripping their family apart. But Layla couldn't. Not when Roseanna Taylor had made the choice to destroy herself and her family. Layla could remember everything—Alana's memories were jaded.
Shielding her sister, Layla had stepped in where their mother failed, striving to never let Alana endure the neglect they'd suffered as children. And the pain and humiliation Layla had experienced as a teenager.
No, she wouldn't walk down that path again. Not today. Not now.
Layla started her truck and steered onto the street, heading toward the diner. She was accustomed to eating alone, having been considered an odd bird by so many and left to her own ways, so she didn't mind.
It took her two loops of the diner's lot to find an available parking space. Good thing she was alone—less waiting time. The aroma of onions, grease, and spices enveloped her in a welcoming embrace as soon as she entered. She moved past the sets of two- and threesomes waiting, found a free seat at the bar, plopped down, then shrugged out of her coat.
Seconds later the waitress came by with a pot of coffee. "Morning, Layla. Want a hit of java?"
"Thanks." She smiled at the pretty brunette who filled her cup, then laid a menu in front of her.
The waitress jerked her head to the vacant seat beside her. "Alana coming?"
"Not today." Layla forced a smile. She didn't like being at odds with her sister, but she doubted they'd ever see eye to eye on the issue of their mother.
"I'll be back in a minute to take your order."
Layla nodded and lifted her coffee. The robust odor wafted under her nose. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Warmth seeped deep into her bones.
The vinyl seat of the stool beside her creaked.
"It tastes as good as it smells," a masculine voice boomed.
She opened her eyes to meet the stare of Eternal Springs police officer Lincoln Vailes. She smiled. "Hey, Lincoln." She peered over his shoulder. "Where's Jade?"
He nodded at the waitress before he turned back to Layla. "She had to head home right after church. A group of ladies are having some type of get-together at her place, and she wanted to finish tidying up. I'm just here to pick up the gumbo she called in."
Layla chuckled and took a sip of her coffee. "There is that. Tell her I said hello."
"Will do." The smile shifted off his kindly face. "Saw the report about that building and the body."
She set the cup back on its saucer. "Two detectives from the parish office came by to talk to Alana and me about that."
She traced the lip of the cup with her finger. "Didn't like them much."
"Why not?"
"One of them was a real jerk. The other one, older, was nice enough. But that Maddox one was a jerk."
Lincoln's laugh startled her. "Maddox Bishop?"
"Yeah. Do you know him?"
"Worked with him on Jade's case, actually. He's a good guy, Layla."
She tried to stop the snort but couldn't.
"Seriously. He's rough around the edges and can be a bit stubborn, but he's a good detective. Interested in getting to the truth."
She hated that Lincoln gave him a glowing recommendation. Lincoln Vailes was as honest as the day was long, and if he said someone was a good man, then he must be. But she couldn't stop thinking about Maddox's penetrating stare.
Like he could see right into her very soul. Could he see her fears? Her insecurities? The reaction he caused?
The waitress slid a bag across the counter to Lincoln. "Jade already paid when she placed the order, so you're good to go."
"Thanks." Lincoln stood and smiled at Layla one last time. "Yeah, Maddox can be ornery and stubborn, but give him a chance."
"I will." She lifted her cup at him in salute. "Don't forget to give my best to Jade."
He nodded and wove through the diner and out the door.
Layla took another sip of her coffee. Maddox Bishop was a good cop, huh? Well, if Lincoln said so, she'd give him the benefit of the doubt.
For now.
SIX
"There is nothing more uncommon than common sense."
—FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT
CLOUDS HUNG LOW OVER Monday morning like a wool afghan on a summer night. Stifling. Suffocating.
Layla jerked the truck into her parking space at Taylor Construction. Of all days to oversleep . . . She killed the engine and grabbed her travel cup of coffee and attaché case. She stepped to the ground and sunk an inch in mud. Gritting her teeth, she trudged up the stairs. She balanced the travel mug and case with one arm while unlocking the door.
An engine roared behind her.
She spun, dropping not only the mug and attaché, but also her keys. Hot coffee splashed up and dotted her jeans. So much for its claims of being spill proof. She narrowed her eyes at the men getting out of the car now parked beside her truck.
