Not Without Her Family

by Beth Andrews

  Kelsey laid a hand over her jittery stomach. She’d done that, had yanked at the stiff cloth, tugged at it in an attempt to get to the warm, smooth skin and taut muscles underneath.

  “I apologize if I crossed a line,” he said, his eyes steady on hers.

  She frowned. Remembered how he’d immediately stopped when she’d made it clear she didn’t want to go any further.

  “You didn’t.” She cleared her throat. “Look, I’m…sorry if it seemed…I didn’t mean to, you know, lead you on. I just…” Hadn’t wanted to stop. And that realization had scared her to death.

  “You have the right to stop. And you didn’t lead me on. I kissed you, remember?”

  Remember? She wasn’t likely to forget. Ever.

  She crossed her arms. “Well, I just wanted you to know that wasn’t my intention. The leading on part.”

  He stepped toward her and she had to force herself not to back up. “If it wasn’t for your brother, or my position as police chief, would we still be having this conversation?”

  Or would we be having mind-blowing, earthshaking sex?

  He didn’t speak the words out loud, but she heard them as plainly as if he had. “I don’t think it matters—”

  “Probably not, but I’d like to know, anyway.” When she remained silent, he smiled. “Humor me.”

  “If you’d asked me that a few days ago, I would’ve said no.”

  “What changed?”

  “Well, even if you didn’t want to lock up my brother—”

  “I want to find whoever killed Shannon,” he interrupted. “Whoever that may be.”

  “We still couldn’t…get together.”

  “Because?”

  Because he made her want too much. Things she couldn’t have. Made her want to believe in him.

  Since she couldn’t tell him the truth, she said the first thing that popped into her head. “Because you have a kid.”

  “What does Emma have to do with us?”

  “Nothing.” Everything. “I just thought most single fathers were looking for a woman to take care of their kids for them. And I’m not looking to be anybody’s wife. Or mother.”

  He looked like he’d been hit in the gut with a sledgehammer. “Mind telling me where that came from?”

  It came from her being unable to risk having anyone depend on her. She knew she’d only let them down. “I don’t know. That’s the problem. How do I know you didn’t kiss me as some sort of thank-you for helping Emma? Don’t get the wrong idea about those cookies—”

  He tipped his head back and roared with laughter, cutting her off. So glad to realize she amused him. Okay, so she did like hearing the sound of his deep laugh. Even if it was at her expense.

  “I appreciate you helping us out,” he said when he managed to control himself, “but those cookies didn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “No?”

  “I’m not looking for a mother for Emma. I kissed you because…” He shook his head. When he spoke again his voice was lower, deeper. More intimate. “I seem to have an awful hunger for you, Kelsey. One that, no matter how hard I fight it, isn’t going away.” He reached out and touched the ends of her hair before dropping his hand to his side. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

  He cleared his throat. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said into the silence, “but I thought you were attracted to me as well.”

  “You might find this hard to believe—” especially after she’d admitted what happened between her and Eric “—but I don’t usually roll around on tables with a guy I’m not attracted to.”

  His lips twitched. “That’s good to know. So, to clarify here, we’re both single, unattached adults who are attracted to each other.”

  “Single, unattached adults who are on opposite sides of just about every issue I can think of. We’re still right where we started. I can’t turn my back on my brother. I won’t.”

  And she couldn’t get too close to Jack and Emma. Not if she wanted to keep her heart safe.

  “And I won’t do anything that jeopardizes this case. Or the integrity of the Serenity Springs Police Department.”

  “We’re in agreement then.” So why did she feel like crying? “Any involvement between us would only create problems. And I don’t know about you, but I have enough crap to deal with.”

  “Do I even want to know what’s going on here?”

  Kelsey jerked around to see Dillon standing in the doorway. “Dillon, we were just…Jack wanted—”

  “I think I have a pretty good idea about what Jack wants,” her brother said, his anger palpable.

  “We finished putting the tables and chairs back in the bar,” Jack said. “Kelsey was kind enough to offer me a drink.”

  Dillon’s mouth was tight as he looked at her, his eyes filled with suspicion. “As long as that’s all she offered you.”

  Kelsey flinched, but before she could recover from her brother’s verbal slap, Jack crossed the room. “Watch your step,” he warned Dillon softly, “and watch your mouth.”

  Dillon didn’t so much as blink. He sure didn’t look intimidated. Of course, neither did Jack. And she’d thought it was tense in the room before? Ha.

  “You can cut out the whole manly, testosterone-filled, silent-communication thing,” Kelsey said. “It’s pissing me off.”

  Worse, seeing her enigmatic brother and the contained cop go head-to-head was making her very, very nervous.

  Finally, thankfully, Dillon stepped to the side and held his arm out in a gesture for Jack to pass by. “Will you be all right, Kelsey?” Jack asked.

  She blinked. She knew what he meant. Would she be all right with Dillon? Would she be safe?

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “She just said so, didn’t she?” Dillon snapped.

  Stony-faced, Jack waited. Her throat was too tight to speak, so she nodded.

  Clearly frustrated, he didn’t try to change her mind. He just walked away.

  “What are you doing?” Dillon asked flatly when they were alone. “You must have gone insane if you’re sleeping with the police chief.”

  She twisted her fingers together. “I’m not sleeping with Jack—with Chief Martin.” But she couldn’t deny she wanted to.

  “Damn it, Kelsey, Jack Martin isn’t someone you can play with.”

  “This isn’t a game. And there’s nothing going on between us.”

  “I hope not. How do you know he’s not using you to get to me?”

  “He’s not,” she said firmly. “He wouldn’t.”

  She’d tasted the desire in his kiss. Felt it in the way he held her, touched her. He couldn’t be pretending. Could he?

  Dillon stabbed a hand through his hair. “I just…I want you to be careful.”

  “Why? You don’t want anything to do with me, remember? Why do you care if I get hurt?”

  He opened his mouth as if to deny it but then seemed to change his mind. “You’re right,” he said, and her stomach dropped. “I don’t have to take care of you anymore. Besides, you never listened to me, anyway.”

  Kelsey slid bonelessly into a chair as Dillon stormed out of the room. She dropped her head to her hands. Oh, God. Dillon was right.

  Growing up, she’d fought him and rebelled at every turn. Because of her, because she’d been unbelievably stubborn and immature and stupid, he’d had to rescue her from Glenn that night.

  Now she was supposed to be helping her brother, not rolling around on the table with the man who wanted to send him to prison.

  She groaned. Would she ever learn? Maybe her bastard of a stepfather had been right.

  Maybe she really was nothing but trouble.

  JACK TURNED UP THE COLLAR on his jacket and hunched his shoulders against the cold, pelting rain. He was surprised by the number of mourners standing by Shannon Crandall’s freshly dug grave, their heads bowed slightly in prayer even as they fought the brisk wind for control of their umbrellas.


  Seemed being the wife of one of Serenity Springs’s more prominent citizens guaranteed a well-attended funeral. Though Jack doubted any of the mourners—which, from his viewpoint looked to be most of the town’s city officials and community leaders—would’ve given Shannon the time of day, dead or alive, if she hadn’t been Mrs. Mark Crandall.Jack stood by his Jeep, close enough to hear the priest’s prayers, and far enough away to make it clear he wasn’t there simply to pay his respects. He scanned the small crowd of mourners looking for the woman he’d come there to speak with. As his gaze drifted from one person to the next, he noticed the devastation on Mark Crandall’s face. Most of the other mourners looked wet and cold and slightly bored, as if burying a young woman who’d been violently murdered was just another chore, an inconvenience they needed to get through before continuing on with their day.

  His attention landed on a trim blonde standing next to Mayor Michaels. Though he couldn’t see her features clearly, he knew she was the woman he was looking for. He straightened as the service ended. The blond woman walked alone, her head down, her large, black umbrella doing little to keep the rain off the front of her navy pantsuit. She stopped next to a brown rental car and opened the driver’s side door.

  Jack approached her. “Ms. Rennard? Tess Rennard?”

  She looked up, her eyes rimmed red. “Yes?”

  Tess Rennard’s eyes were more gray than blue and her hair was two shades darker, but this close, Jack could easily see the similarities between Shannon and her older sister.

  “Ms. Rennard, I’m Police Chief Jack Martin. We spoke on the phone a few days ago.”

  “Right.” She fidgeted with the strap of her purse. Glanced around nervously. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  “Would you like to go somewhere more private?” he asked.

  “I can’t. I’m flying back to Florida—my plane leaves at three. That’s why I asked you to meet me here.”

  “Okay.” Jack waited until most of the mourners had hurried to the dryness and relative warmth of their vehicles before saying gently, “You said you had some information for me? About your sister?”

  “Yeah.” Tess dug into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a pink disposable lighter. She tossed the purse into the car. “You told me to contact you if I remembered anything. Anything that might help you find who hurt Shannon.”

  When Jack had called Tess the day after Shannon’s body had been discovered, she’d been too disturbed over her sister’s death to give him much of anything. Except an earful for his—very delicate—suggestion that Shannon might have been unfaithful to her husband.

  “That’s right.” Since it was raining too hard for him to take notes, he left his notebook in his inside jacket pocket. “Did you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” She tucked the handle of her umbrella between her shoulder and chin so she could light a cigarette. She blew out smoke on a long exhale. “She called me a few weeks ago. September 25. It was my birthday.”

  “Was that the last time you spoke to her?”

  She nodded. “When we talked—you and me—I wasn’t myself.”

  “You were distraught. It’s understandable.”

  “I was,” she readily agreed before taking another long drag of her cigarette. “And I was upset you were asking me such…personal questions about her. But afterwards…once I had a chance to calm down and think about it I…”

  The wind picked up, the rain pelted his face, prickling his skin, but he kept his voice calm. Unhurried. “Ms. Rennard, I’m not passing judgment on Shannon or on how she lived her life. I’m trying to help.”

  She flicked the ash off her cigarette. “I guess I was trying to protect her. Protect her reputation.” She cleared her throat. “But the truth is, Shannon did cheat on Mark. Often.”

  “Did she mention if Mr. Crandall became aware of her extramarital affairs?”

  Her eyebrows drew together. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Did she mention anyone by name? Give any indication that her husband or someone else was threatening her?”

  “Not threats, no. But she admitted she’d gotten herself into a situation.”

  “What kind of situation?”

  “The last man she was…seeing—the last man she told me about—was quite a bit younger than her. She said at first she thought it was great. The attention. The way he was so easy to please and, more importantly, eager to please her.”

  “She never mentioned him by name?”

  She tossed the cigarette on the ground. “All she said was that he was getting clingy, so she dumped him. He wanted her to leave Mark, which she never would’ve done.”

  “What about Mr. Crandall? If he learned of your sister’s infidelities, would he ask her for a divorce?”

  “No way. He worshipped her. I can’t even say for sure he didn’t know about her cheating on him. It wouldn’t surprise me if he just chose to ignore it.” She looked at her watch. “I’m sorry, but I have to get to the airport.”

  Jack stepped back. “I’ll be in touch if I have any more questions. I appreciate you coming forward like this, Ms. Rennard.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “I had to. My sister made her fair share of mistakes and God knew she wasn’t perfect. But she didn’t deserve to be killed.”

  “No, ma’am, she didn’t. We’ll do all we can to find the person responsible.”

  After Tess drove away, Jack ducked his head and headed back to his Jeep. Once inside with the heat blasting, he pulled out his notebook and wrote down their conversation. On the next page he wrote down Mark Crandall, Dillon Ward and Young Lover. Circled the last entry three times. Tess Rennard had given him another piece to the puzzle.

  Now it was up to Jack to determine where that piece fit.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  KELSEY MADE HER WAY DOWN the bar, picking up empties and wiping the counter. A quick glance around the room satisfied her that everyone was taken care of. Since weeknights were slow, Allie allowed her lone waitress to end her shift when the kitchen closed at nine. Which left Kelsey alone to run the bar while Allie cleaned up the kitchen and did prep work for the next day’s menu.

  The Summit was a far cry from her previous place of employment. No flashing strobe lights, obscenely loud music or barely legal girls in tight, short skirts and tighter, shorter tops gyrating on the dance floor. Only soft lighting, classic rock on the jukebox and a blue collar clientele doing the world a favor by keeping their navels covered.Funny how…comfortable it all was. Too bad comfortable didn’t equate busy. Because that’s what she needed—to keep busy. Otherwise her mind wandered, and it always strolled to the same place. Back to Jack and what happened between them two days ago.

  She tossed the cleaning rag under the bar and poured herself a soda. Took a sip to ease the sudden dryness in her mouth. Oh, man, she had to stop thinking about Jack. And she really, really had to stop wanting him.

  “Excuse me,” a chubby, bespectacled blonde said as she lifted herself onto a stool, “but aren’t you Kelsey Reagan? Dillon Ward’s sister?”

  Kelsey slowly lowered her glass. “Yeah. I’m Kelsey.”

  The woman bared her teeth in a predatory smile at odds with her soft, round face. “I’m Dora Wilkins with the Serenity Springs Gazette. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

  Kelsey blinked. Dora looked to be in her early forties, had wavy ash-blond hair cut in a chin-length bob and thin, severely arched eyebrows above burgundy, rectangular glasses. The tan sweatshirt she wore had a picture of a beagle puppy surrounded by colorful fall leaves.

  She looked like a kindergarten teacher and so not how Kelsey had pictured the sludge-writing reporter. And it had nothing to do with Dora not having a forked tail and devil horns, either. Or at least, not much.

  “I have nothing to say to you,” Kelsey said.

  Dora glanced up as she pulled a notebook and pen from her purse. “I’d have thought you’d want to comment. Seeing as how they’re planning
on arresting your brother for Shannon Crandall’s murder—”

  “Dillon is innocent.” Kelsey grit out the words from between her teeth. “You can quote me on that.”

  “Be that as it may,” Dora continued, “I have it on good authority the police now have enough evidence to arrest your brother and that this case will be wrapped up by the weekend.”

  Refusing to rise to the reporter’s bait, she sipped her soda and hoped like hell she looked calm and collected. “Any evidence the police department thinks it has against Dillon is circumstantial.”

  “Hmm, yes, well, you’d be surprised how strong circumstantial evidence can be.” She leaned forward, lowered her voice. “Besides, your brother killed once before. It’s not really that much of a stretch to believe he’s done it again.”

  Kelsey took a menacing step forward when someone laid a restraining hand on her arm. She swung around and faced Allie.

  “I think Mike’s ready for a refill,” Allie said and nodded at a painfully thin man at the end of the bar. “Could you take care of that for me?”

  Teeth ground together, hand still curled into a fist, she stalked to the end of the bar. Damn it, damn it. She had to get a grip. She couldn’t let someone like Dora get under her skin.

  After getting Mike another beer, she took a deep breath, counted to ten and let it out. She still felt the urge to break Dora’s pointy nose, but she wouldn’t. She could control herself. For Dillon.

  Besides, what would Jack think if she ended up in his jail for assault?

  Realizing she cared—too much—about what Jack thought about her, she frowned.

  “…just doing my job,” Dora was saying when Kelsey went back to Allie. “Gathering quotes for my story.”

  “Why not just make up the so-called quotes like you usually do?” Allie asked.

  Dora blushed. “I can see freedom of the press is not an acceptable concept here at The Summit.” She swiveled off the stool and shoved her notebook in her purse. “I’m sure my readers will be interested to learn how far you’re willing to go to protect your…handyman.”

  Allie smiled thinly. “I bet that’ll make for riveting copy. And I’m just itching for the chance to sue you and the newspaper for libel.”