When A Stranger Calls (New York State Trooper Series Book 7)

by Jen Talty

  “Thank you,” she whispered, rubbing her eyes. “I’m sorry I dumped all that on you. I’ll be better in a few days.”

  He eased into the bed, fluffing the pillow. “What you’re going through will take more than a few days. Have you ever really grieved for your parents? Grandmother?”

  She scrunched her eyes, propping herself up on her elbows. “Of course I have. Why would you ask me that?”

  He took her pillow, folding it over before putting it behind her back. “What happened in the kitchen wasn’t only about what is going on right now with your ex and the passing of your grandfather.”

  She glared at him. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He laced his fingers together, resting them over his stomach. “Do you always nearly hit someone when you are upset?”

  “I wasn’t going to hit you.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You egged me on, which just made it worse.”

  “Maybe, but you were ready to have sex with me to bury all the pain you’ve been carrying around for years, and I certainly didn’t start that.”

  “A lot of people use sex to get through things.” She scooted to the side and jumped off the bed, stomping her way to the bathroom. “Just like getting drunk for a night. It’s not like I go around doing either all the time.” She slammed the bathroom door.

  He let out a long breath putting one hand behind his head, closing his eyes. His own anguish over his twin sister’s death still tormented him. He understood rituals. He had his fair share of them for birthdays, holidays, and the day she died. Some he shared with his family, since they all lost a sister and a daughter as well. But others were just for him.

  It had taken him two years and a shit load of trips to the police station for acting out before he learned that holding on to that kind of sorrow would only destroy him.

  The door to the bathroom squeaked open as Brooke stepped in front of him. “You made me feel like shit for how I acted.”

  “Wasn’t my intention.” Knowing how easily he could set her off, he thought carefully about his next words. “I’ve been where you are with a hurt so deep you go blind to your actions. You might see it coming, but you can’t stop it. Next thing you know, you’re peeling out of a store in your car. Had I not stopped you, you might not have slowed down at all.”

  “That’s not true. I’m not that reckless.”

  “I didn’t say you were, normally, but if you don’t really deal with everything you’ll end up with an asshole like Wendell or hundreds of other guys that would gladly take you to bed the moment you straddled them.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Are you saying I threw myself at Wendell?” A tiny flame ignited in her eyes.

  He needed to find a way to help her get past the need to protect herself from her own heartache. “No. But he did try to take advantage of you while you were vulnerable, knowing people use sex to get through bad things, as you said.”

  “This is ridiculous. Don’t you have to go to work or something?”

  “Not for a few hours, so sit down. I’m not finished talking.” He should shut his trap. Not his battle. Not his fight. But he couldn’t drop it. Or wouldn’t.

  “I’m done.”

  He sat up and grabbed her arm as she tried to spin around. “This might have been easier if you’d just hit me because that would have snapped you out of your wrath. That’s not you, but it will become you if you don’t deal with all this shit.”

  “I am dealing with it!”

  He shook his head. “You think that eventually the pain will ease its way out, only you’re shoving it so deep inside that even a two-hour crying session won’t scratch the tip of the iceberg.”

  “Oh, what do you know?” She glared at him.

  “I know a little about rage and death. I lived it. My twin died in my arms when we were fifteen. And I know better than most that if you swallow it, telling yourself you’ll get over it in time instead of purging it, you’ll end up throwing a picture at someone, hit a cop, even if he’s egging you on, or have sex with the first man that walks through that front door. You need to expunge it so that when the next tragedy comes, or the memories flood your mind, you’ll be ready.” He let go of her arm, taking a deep calming breath. Over the years, it had gotten easier to talk about Tamara and what happened without having a surge of uncontrollable grief. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel it, but he had learned to remember her without all the emptiness her death created.

  “I didn’t know,” Brooke whispered. She pushed his legs and sat on the edge of the bed. “What happened?”

  “That’s a story for another day.” He sat cross legged, leaning against the headboard. “I can’t imagine losing my parents or grandparents on top of my sister’s death. Or the break-up and betrayal of friendships and lovers. So, I don’t pretend to understand exactly what you’re going through. I’m sure you think you’re dealing—”

  “I’m sorry about your sister and I appreciate the fact you care, but—”

  “Let me finish.” His pulse beat erratically as visions of his sister flashed in his mind like a moving picture. Thankfully, he’d learned to suppress the negative images, most of the time. “Your grandfather talked about you all the time. He probably told me more than he should have.”

  She opened her mouth, but he pressed his finger to her lips. “He worried about you. He saw you as a strong, vibrant woman who could do anything except take care of herself where it counted.”

  She batted his hand away. “So, you’re basing this assumption that I’m some raging out of control lunatic ready to explode on what my grandfather told you?”

  “No.” He took her hands in his. “I’m basing it on what I’ve seen and what I’ve been through, then adding in the words of a kind old man who would have worried about you no matter what.” Not wanting to give her a chance to interrupt him again, he continued. “It’s true what they say about twins. Tamara and I had a deep connection. The moment she walked into a room, I knew what she was feeling and thinking. I sensed things with her when we weren’t together and she about me. When she took her last breath, I felt that connection snap and a piece of me died with her.” He shivered. “It was like talking to someone when you’re lost in the darkest forest and your cell dies and you can never recharge it and you’re alone in total darkness. Not even a single star to show you the way.”

  “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

  “After her funeral, I spent two weeks in her room, surrounding myself with all her stuff. I wouldn’t leave and I couldn’t cry. I let the anger cook inside me until it took me over. I lashed out at my parents. My little brothers. Something would trigger the overwhelming misery and I would do things like drive my car way too fast, almost hoping something bad would happen, wondering what it would be like if I wrapped it around a tree.” He arched a brow.

  Brooke gasped and covered her mouth.

  “Mind you, I didn’t want to die, but I was looking for something as intense as the loss I felt, hoping it would make it go away. You know that feeling, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “You can’t numb it away with alcohol and you can’t thrill it away with adrenaline. You have to let it become part of who you are now.” He reached out and ran his thumb across her cheek, then dropped his hand to his lap. “You’re a resilient woman, but I think you misunderstand what strength means in grief. You don’t take it on the chin.”

  “My parents and grandparents would want me to continue my life and that is exactly what I’m doing. They wouldn’t want me to wallow in self-pity.”

  “But that is exactly what you’ve been doing for years and it has caught up to you.”

  “That’s not true.” She scowled. “I don’t wallow in anything. I agree, I’m out of sorts right now, but just about everything that could go wrong has gone wrong in less than two weeks. I’d say you’d be a little bat-shit crazy too.”

  He curled his fingers around her legs, drawing her
closer. “You’re allowed to fall apart. Put your fist through a wall. But until you reach deep inside and acknowledge that you feel abandoned by—”

  “I wasn’t abandoned by anyone.”

  “You were abandoned in death and the people you loved the most like your boyfriend and Michelle, they betrayed and abandoned you as well. It’s triggered a chain reaction. You can’t make it go away, so you’ve got to spend some time allowing all of this to become part of your narrative.”

  She let out a dry chuckle. “For a guy who thinks it’s perfectly okay to tell a woman she looks fat in something, you seem to have that psycho-babble about grief bullshit down pat.”

  He ran his hands across her thighs. “It’s not babble. Once I understood that the anger was my way of avoiding how her death affected me, I was then able to let the rage go.”

  “Let’s say I believe all this shit. What do I need to do then to make my new narrative so I don’t try to jump your bones again?”

  “You need to be honest with yourself, and other than talking it through, I have no idea.” He tapped her knee. “I’m a good listener.”

  She smiled. “For a guy who can’t keep a girl, you’re shockingly kind and warm.”

  “Well, what you’re going through I understand. But I won’t pretend to understand you as a woman.”

  “We’re not some super-secret puzzle. I’m beginning to suspect that you look for women in all the wrong places. Not only that, your eyes are so dark and rich and when I look at them.” She leaned in, pressing her hands on his knees. “All I see is a warm and loving man and I think at your core, that’s who you are.”

  “Nice way to change the subject.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He arched a brow. “This shouldn’t be a lesson in how I’m supposed to talk to women. It’s about a friend being there for another friend.”

  He dropped his hand, resisting the urge to kiss her, because friends don’t swap spit. Boy was he glad he didn’t say that out loud.

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  He nodded. “Now on to a different subject for now. I need a copy of that illegible note. I’ve got a couple of forensic guys who said they’d look at it.”

  “Will that cost a lot?”

  “Won’t cost you anything,” he said.

  “Thank you. The note is on the table.” She let out a long sigh. “I need to go call a defense attorney that the estate attorney recommended.”

  “Who?”

  “A woman by the name of Jillian White or Sutten or both.”

  Tristan pushed himself from the bed, holding his hand out. “That’s Stacey’s step-mom. Let her know we’re friends and maybe she’ll drop her fee.”

  “I hate fucking small towns,” Brooke muttered. “I don’t want or need handouts.”

  “You asked me to help, that’s what I’m doing.”

  She waggled her finger. “You really want to help? Get six men who can carry my grandfather’s casket because all his friends are eighty and older.”

  “Done.”

  “Of course it is.” She waltzed through the door, her hips rocking in that natural swagger she had. “While you’re at it, find me a place to have a small gathering of his close friends and I suppose whoever else attends the ceremony. He’d never forgive me if I didn’t.”

  “Have it here and I’ll take care of the catering.”

  She looked at him, her nose crinkled. She managed to make a scowl sexy.

  “Last minute, it’s all your gonna get.”

  “Fine,” she said, hand on her hip. “But I have a budget, so you’ve got to stick with that, okay?”

  “Got it.” No point in arguing with her. “Doug will be by this afternoon to look at the key and take measurements of the house.”

  “Cool.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Thank you for today.”

  “You’re welcome.” He made his way through the house toward the front door contemplating how long he’d have to wait to ask a broken-hearted girl out on a date.

  Chapter 4

  Brooke tapped her cell phone, satisfied that the funeral arrangements were complete and grateful that Tristan managed to snag a few of his buddies to help, but not thrilled with the idea of having the gathering right here at home. But it did make the most sense. She glanced out the window at the female state trooper running around the yard with a toddler, feeling guilty she’d been holed up in the kitchen, ignoring the woman, her kid, and her hunky husband who was still taking measurements.

  She was sure the woman was nice enough, and as open as Brooke had been her entire life, talking about being arrested wasn’t something she really wanted to do with a female officer of the law.

  After her night in jail, she spent a week in a hotel room, working on her resume, calling a head hunter, and doing everything she could to keep from falling apart. Her little tirade in the office had scared her because she could barely remember what she’d done, but the feeling associated with that day will never leave her.

  Ever.

  Nor would having cold metal restraints slapped on her wrists.

  When the doctor from the hospital called to tell her about her grandfather, her mind and body went numb until she walked through the doors of this house. Ever since then, she had no idea who she was anymore.

  Or what she wanted.

  Damn Tristan for making her see all this shit. Ignorance was bliss.

  But she had to admit, she enjoyed having people around. The idea of being alone in this house now gave her the chills and Tristan wouldn’t be off work until midnight. While he was a nice guy, she shouldn’t be relying on him for anything, not even moral support, but the fact her grandfather seemed to have spent more time with Tristan in the last few months than anyone else, made her feel somewhat closer to the old man.

  She set her phone on the table and made her way outside where Stacey’s little boy, Brandon, giggled and laughed like no tomorrow as he chased his mother with a squirt gun.

  “Hi!” the little boy squealed as he ran by.

  “Where’s Doug?” Stacey asked. She smiled and laughed, but her eyes had a tired look about them.

  “I’m right here,” Doug yelled from the side of the house. “Brandon, come help Daddy measure the perimeter.”

  Stacey rubbed her swollen belly. “Thank god,” she said, taking one of the folding chairs and sat down, glancing over her shoulder as her son ran toward the house. “This second pregnancy is killing me.” She unraveled her long blonde hair from the bun she’d put on top of her head. The way Stacey carried confidence put Brooke’s self-assurance to shame.

  “How far along are you?” Brooke made sure the other chair was secure before turning it to face Stacey.

  “Five months.” Stacey pulled the small table over, kicked off her shoes and rested her feet on the table letting out a long sigh. “Sorry about intruding on you today, but my husband won’t be able to sleep tonight if he doesn’t get those measurements.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford this, so I feel bad he’s spending the time, but it’s greatly appreciated.” Brooke barely remembered meeting Stacey and her family the other night. “I’m sorry about my drunken behavior the last time we met.”

  “We all have had one of those nights.” Stacey waved her hand. “I didn’t know your grandfather well, but everyone who did, loved him.”

  “He was a good man.” Brooke swallowed. She’d always been friendly. Outgoing. Extroverted. Whatever label you wanted to give someone who never had a problem talking to anyone, which is why sales had been such a great career choice. That said, asking someone about legal advice was something entirely different. “My grandfather’s estate attorney recommended your step-mother for a bit of trouble I’ve gotten myself into.”

  “She’s great at what she does,” Stacey said. “I can tell her you’re going to give her a call.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” Brooke stared at the petite blonde who she suspected packed a huge punch.
“I’m a little surprised you didn’t ask why I needed her services.”

  “I can’t say I’m not curious, but it’s none of my business.”

  Brooke respected Stacey’s directness. “I hauled off on my boyfriend’s slutty side dish and she pressed charges.”

  Stacey lowered her chin. “First altercation with her? With anyone?”

  Brooke nodded. “I speak my mind and can hold my own in an argument. But, I’m not the kind of person that goes off and hits people. It was just the perfect storm of events.”

  “Why don’t you come over for dinner and I’ll introduce you to Jillian. It sounds like a simple plea bargain case.”

  “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Are you doing anything else this evening?” Stacey asked.

  “Well no.”

  “Then I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “I have a feeling that you’d drag me kicking and screaming.” Brooke hadn’t meant to accept the invitation, but truthfully, spending the next few hours alone wasn’t all that appealing.

  Stacey laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m glad you agreed.”

  “Have you lived here your entire life?” Brooke asked.

  Stacey nodded. “Born and raised. You can see my father’s house from Tristan’s dock and my house is right next to it.”

  Brooke’s heart skipped a beat. She’d run from her parent’s house the moment she graduated high school. She loved her parents and she’d never gone through a rebellious stage. Her decision to go downstate had more to do with wanting new experiences and having ambition. She certainly wasn’t running from her parents. But Plattsburg was the most God-awful place on the planet. “Is it weird living next to your folks?”

  “I can see how other people might think it’s strange, but it works for us.”

  The familiar hum of a motor caught Brooke’s attention. She watched the big metal gate at Ramsworth Manor swing open. A large, dark SUV, exactly like the one her grandfather drove for them, pulled out on to the main road, heading south toward the country store. “Do you know the Ramsworth’s?”

  Stacey let out a sarcastic laugh. “I’ve known Wendell since we were kids. My father used to do a lot of construction for them, but he won’t do it anymore.”