He looked up. “One hell of a lot happened yesterday.”
“I’m talking about what happened in my bedroom.”
Sean gave her a heart-stopping, sexy smile. “If you’re unclear about what happened, we can do it again.”
She caught her breath. That answered one of her questions. “Is that why you came over early?”
“No, but I’m happy to oblige if you need clarification.”
She fought a smile. “I know what happened. I just don’t know what it means.”
Sean reached across the table and ran a finger down her forearm. She shivered, goose bumps popping up on her skin.
“It means we like each other,” he said softly. “I’m as surprised as you are.”
“It’s just that...well, I know the whole thing was kinda my idea, and I hope I didn’t give you the wrong impression,” she said.
He grinned. “What century do you live in? You’re worried I think you have loose morals?”
“That’s not it.” Feeling foolish, she said, “It’s only fair to tell you I’m not looking for a long-term commitment right now.”
He blinked. “Okay.”
“I’m just not ready to get serious. I hope you understand.”
“Totally,” he said. “I’m not looking for anything long-term either. My focus is getting assigned to the Gang Suppression Unit.”
“Right,” she said, unable to figure out if Sean was relieved or disappointed. She felt both.
Sean cleared his throat. “But we need to discuss your safety. That’s why I came over early. I’m worried about you.”
“You don’t need to worry,” she said. “Bubba is dead. He got burned up in a fire.”
Scowling, Sean sat back. “How do you know?”
“Myra called me early this morning.”
“I wish she hadn’t done that.”
Aleta stared at Sean. “So you already knew?”
“Yeah, I read the report last night.”
“And you weren’t planning on telling me?”
“No, I was not.”
“Well, thanks a whole lot, Sean.”
“Your friend doesn’t have complete information. We don’t have confirmation that the body is Burnett. Until we do, you should remain on guard.”
“But Myra said the manhunt had been called off, her contact is certain it was him.”
Sean nodded. “I think that call from a small PD was premature, an over-eager attempt to reassure its citizens the town is safe. Your ex could still be out there.”
Aleta listened with growing dismay as Sean explained his paranoid theory about how Bubba could have faked his death to throw off the police.
She folded her arms. “Bubba isn’t that smart.”
“He was smart enough to break out of prison.”
“How long will the results of the autopsy take?”
“At least a couple of days.”
“Why so long?”
“Real forensics aren’t instantaneous like on TV. Plus, the body needed to be shipped to Orange County’s lab for processing, although I suspect they’ll put a rush on the ID.”
Aleta shivered. Bubba’s body needed to be processed.
“Okay, okay.” She threw up her arms in surrender. “So I’ll be careful until we get confirmation. I’ll keep peering into dark corners.”
“Promise me you’ll stay aware of your surroundings at all times.”
“I promise.”
“That’s a start,” he said, sounding relieved. “But I need you to do more than that.”
“What else can I do?”
“I want you to consider moving in with your parents for a few days.”
* * *
SEAN LEANED FORWARD to emphasize his point. “I’ve already checked out their home, and it has an excellent security system, including video surveillance of all the entrances. You’ll be safe there.”
Aleta stared at him without speaking. Finally she reached for her coffee and took a long swallow.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“You checked out my parents’ home?”
“I confirmed their security system.”
“You had no right.”
Sean sat back. Didn’t take a cop to figure out she was pissed. Well, too damn bad. This was her life he was trying to save.
“I had to make sure it was safe.”
“Did you talk to them?”
“No. Did Burnett know where your parents lived?”
She hesitated. “Why?”
“We should alert them to a possible threat. Burnett could look for you there.”
“Did you not hear what I told you about my parents?”
“I heard. You’re mad at them. I get that, but this is a perfect opportunity for you guys to reconnect.”
Her brows shot up. “Reconnect?”
“It would only be temporary. It’s not like you’re moving back in with them forever.”
“I’m not going to move in with them at all.”
“Why the hell not? I thought you believed in second chances?”
“I haven’t spoken to them in eight years. Not since they dumped me in rehab and never came to visit me.”
“Did you reach out to them?”
“Many times. They didn’t respond.”
“Well, that sucks.”
“No kidding. I was a seventeen-year-old girl, alone and frightened in a strange place, and they abandoned me.”
“Maybe the therapists told them not to come.”
“No. Believe me, I asked. I’m dead to them, and they’re dead to me.”
How could someone hate their mom and dad? He might not see his as often as he should, but he spoke to his dad every week, his mom sometimes twice. His parents were the bedrock of his life, had always been there for him. They’d leaned on each other during the dark days after Patrick’s murder.
She kept going. “At first, because I was a recovering addict, I hated them for ruining my so-called life. Now I hate them because they threw me away like yesterday’s garbage. I don’t blame them for my mistakes, but I was their daughter.” She raised her chin. “I’m not anymore.”
“Got it.” He needed to back off. Maybe her parents weren’t like his.
He’d let her calm down before he made his backup suggestion of moving in with him. He’d been worried about getting in too deep with Aleta, but that was obviously not an issue.
Without saying another word, she stood, gathered their dirty dishes and dumped them in her kitchen sink. He winced. Sounded like she’d broken one or two.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked her stiff back.
She turned to face him. She wasn’t smiling. Wow. Her parents’ abandonment had truly hurt her. Maybe the wound was too old and deep to ever heal.
Like his wound over Patrick’s death?
With a start, he realized she didn’t know about his brother. He suddenly needed to tell her. But now wasn’t the right time.
“I’m ready,” she said.
“Then let’s boogie. Make sure your pepper spray is locked and loaded.”
CHAPTER TEN
INSIDE THE GYM OFFICE, Sean sat at his desk working on a fair rotation to let all the kids on his team play. He and Aleta had barely spoken all morning. He couldn’t even tease her out of her anger because she wouldn’t remain in the office alone with him.
He’d finally gotten the message about her parents. Whatever. He’d backed off. Now he had to go with plan B. He had to protect her from a sociopath who could still be on the loose.
He heard Hot Shot’s voice out on the gym floor. Good. The kid had remembered to arrive early to erect the bleachers for the tournament tomorrow.
The sound of clanging metal pulled Sean to the door to check on his progress. Da
mn it. Aleta was helping the kid assemble the scaffolding, which he knew from experience was backbreaking work.
That job was supposed to be the kid’s punishment for the theft, and she knew it. She was deliberately making him feel like a jerk for letting a woman and a boy do the heavy lifting.
Against his better judgment, he stepped out onto the gym floor.
Hot Shot sent him a relieved and welcoming smile. “Hey, Father Sean.”
“We’ve got this,” Aleta said with a frosty glare, which stopped him cold.
Oh, right. She didn’t want his help. Well, hell. If she wanted to be a martyr, so be it.
Sean stomped out of the gym, not sure where he was going at first. He kicked a stone off the path, and decided to pay a visit to Father Mac. He wanted to know what had happened with Alsobrook’s bail, and maybe he could learn more about Aleta’s relationship with her family.
Father Mac sat at his desk, squinting over his eyeglasses at a laptop monitor. Sean rapped on the door, and the priest looked up with his customary benign smile. “Sean. Hello.”
“Father.”
“I assume you’re here on police business.”
“How did it go at the jail this morning?” Sean entered and took a seat. “Did Alsobrook make bail?”
Father Mac nodded and relaxed back into his chair. “He’s home, but the deacon has lost his way. Frankly, I’m worried.”
“He needs help,” Sean said. “If he’s willing, there are groups to help people with gambling addiction, like with alcohol.”
“And I’ve put him in touch with one, but he also needs assistance with his wife. I’ve contacted a hospice, and they are paying a home visit today.”
“Then you’ve done what you can.”
“It may not be enough.” Father Mac released a deep sigh and stared at his clasped hands, resting on his belly. “He could still lose his home.”
“That’s rough,” Sean said.
Lifting his gaze and fixing Sean with a piercing stare, the priest said, “Of course, there is always the power of prayer.”
“Of course,” Sean murmured. Was that an accusation? Silence descended over the small office until the motor in a small refrigerator kicked on. Sean debated with himself on how to approach the subject of Aleta’s parents.
“Are you now leaving St. Theresa’s?” Father Mac asked. “With the arrest, I thought you might be here to tell me you’ve been reassigned.”
“Not yet,” Sean said. “Brass likely hasn’t read my report yet. I assume I’ll receive new orders later today. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Well, I shall miss having you here.”
“I’ll miss you, too, Father.” Which wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t liked pretending to be something he wasn’t, but parts of the assignment had been enjoyable. Like meeting Aleta. And, strangely, her motley group of clients. What the hell had happened to him? He was worried about Cyrus.
“I’ll be around awhile longer. Tomorrow is the first game of our tournament.”
Father Mac nodded. “And I intend to make time to be there.”
“Thanks. I’m sure the kids will appreciate that.”
“Please don’t remain a stranger for so long this time, Sean.”
Silence fell over the office again.
“Is there something else, my son?” Father Mac asked.
“Yes,” Sean said. “Actually there is. I’m worried about another member of your flock.”
“Aleta Porter?”
“Yes,” Sean said.
Smiling now, Father Mac sat forward and placed his clasped hands on his desk. “I’m aware of the friendship that’s developed between you two.”
Friendship? Yeah, I guess that description would work for a man of the cloth.
“I’m pleased that I was correct in my judgment. You two balance each other out and make a perfect team.”
“I don’t know about that,” Sean said.
Father Mac continued as if Sean hadn’t spoken. “I suspect you’re concerned about the ex-boyfriend who recently escaped from prison.”
“More the fact that she won’t take the necessary steps to protect herself from him.”
Father Mac frowned. “I know she refused to move into the women’s shelter.”
“And I suggested she take refuge with her parents until Burnett is recaptured, but she didn’t like that idea any better.”
“I’m not surprised,” Father Mac said. “She has a...troubling relationship with her family.”
“No kidding. She hasn’t talked to her parents in years.”
“Considering how close you are to your family, I imagine that’s hard for you to understand.”
Sean nodded, and decided to call his mom tonight. It’d been almost a week.
“How are your parents?” Father Mac asked.
“They’re good. Looking forward to retirement.”
“Have they forgiven me for testifying in favor of Rocco Brown’s probation?”
Sean met the priest’s unflinching gaze. Usually hearing the name of his brother’s murderer sent him into a rage. Today it just made him sad.
“They never blamed you, Father.”
“You did.”
Sean sighed. He’d once told Father Mac it was his fault Patrick was dead.
“I know you did what you thought was right.”
“Thank you for that.”
Sean shrugged, needing to change the subject.
“It’s hard to believe Aleta’s parents don’t care about their only child,” he said.
Father Mac removed his eyeglasses and rubbed his eyes. “I believe they care in their own limited way.”
“Could you explain?”
“It’s odd, but they asked me to file regular reports on her status once she started working here.” He replaced his spectacles and said, “I refused to do so.”
“They wanted you to file a report on her? Are you serious?”
Father Mac nodded. “They do call from time to time to check on her. Usually the mother, but occasionally the father.”
“Is she aware of that?”
“They asked me not to tell her. I also recently heard they’d separated. I wasn’t surprised.”
“Does Aleta know they’ve split up?”
“I didn’t tell her.”
“Well, she won’t hear it from me,” Sean said.
“That’s probably wise.” Father Mac fixed an accusing glare on him. “Take care, Sean. Aleta is a special person who has already been hurt a great deal. She believes no one she’s loved has ever loved her back.”
Sean shifted in the chair. He didn’t want to hurt Aleta. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but sometimes women made plans that he couldn’t—shit. He scrubbed a hand across his face.
What the hell was he worried about? Hurt her? The woman had been clear that her plans didn’t involve him. At this point she wasn’t even speaking to him.
Sean stood. He hadn’t learned anything new from Father Mac. Sounded like her parents were emotionally withdrawn, which could be damaging to anyone, especially someone who cared as much as Aleta. Apparently they couldn’t give her what she needed.
Could he? He’d like to try. He blinked. Where had that idea come from?
“I should get back to the gym,” Sean said. “The kids will be arriving for practice.”
Father Mac rose and grasped Sean’s hand in both of his. “Thanks for your help, Sean. I know I gave you a hard time about the cameras, but you were right. They worked, and may have saved a good man.”
“You’re welcome, Father.”
The priest didn’t release his hand. “You know, in her own way, Aleta is as lost as Deacon Alsobrook.” Father Mac met Sean’s gaze straight on. “As lost as you once were. I take solace in the fact that you are no longer quite so angry at the world.
You somehow found your way, and perhaps she will, too.”
Sean nodded and backed out of the room. “I’ll let you know when I get my reassignment.”
The conversation with the priest raced through his mind all the way back to the gym. Had he truly found his way? Police work, putting bad guys behind bars, helped with the loss of his brother, but he still retained plenty of anger over Patrick’s death. Didn’t he? If he started to let go of that anger, wasn’t that the same thing as letting go of Patrick?
Did that mean he had to remain angry with the world forever? All that anger was exhausting. Maybe it was time to let it go.
Maybe moving on with his life didn’t mean forgetting his brother.
* * *
ALETA SHOVED THE tight-fitting mechanical doohickey until it clicked into place, and stepped back with a satisfied but unladylike grunt. At least the first section was done. Only two more to go. She hated assembling the bleachers. How could she have forgotten how much work it was?
Hot Shot shook the structure to test its strength. After a nod, he said, “We sure could have used Father O’Malley’s help.”
Aleta wiped sweat off her brow. “I heard you the first time.”
The man had actually had the nerve to check out her parents’ home. She’d been quite clear about her opinion of dear old mom and dad. How could he ever think she’d move in with them?
“This is supposed to be your punishment,” she told Hot Shot. “Remember?”
He grinned. “Are you being punished, too?”
“Apparently so,” she said. Always.
“You know, Father O’Malley is a good guy. He gave me his cell number.”
Surprised, Aleta stared at Hot Shot. “When was this?”
Hot Shot shrugged. “Last week some time. He said to call him next time I thought about doing something stupid. If you want, I could call him and say you changed your mind.”
“We don’t need him. Come on. Let’s get started on the second tier.”
Aleta entered the storage room, grabbed a section of scaffolding and rolled it toward the door. Hot Shot guided the other end. As she pushed, her thoughts drifted to her parents, as they had all day, and she wondered about her level of agitation. Why was she so upset?
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