by Jen Talty
And then there were her emotional and physical reactions to Blaine. They were basically strangers to each other, yet there seemed to be some cosmic connection that hadn’t dissolved. She’d have to be dead not to notice the fire still burning behind his touch.
She marched up the stairs and started searching his room for something that said he lived here or that he had a life. No pictures of girlfriends, or even his father, were on his nightstand. Not a single magazine or book to be found.
She opened up a couple of drawers and laughed. At least that hadn’t changed. He was still a stuffer. She pulled out a pair of wrinkled sweats. She fanned them and decided they looked and felt a whole lot more comfortable than wearing the same clothes from last night.
Slipping her legs into the soft fabric, she tried not to laugh at herself. She’d done this same thing when Blaine had been working nights when they were first married. She’d get lonely and thought being in his clothes would help.
She gave up on finding anything personal. Maybe he’d always been like this. When she’d moved in, she had been the one who brought all the pictures. Back in the day, she’d been a sentimental sap. But today, she didn’t have that luxury.
She plopped herself down on the sofa in Blaine’s sweatpants and one of her camisoles. The soft, fuzzy blanket tickled her skin as she wrapped it around her body. She found the remote for the television and started flipping through the channels in hopes of ridding her thoughts of Blaine, so she could focus on an exit strategy.
But all that happened was that her body craved sleep, so she let her eyelids drop, and she relaxed into the soft cushions. The television barely registered in her ears when a familiar voice snapped her out of a light doze. Stretching, she forced her eyes to flutter open.
“Kaylee? Are you in here?” Shima’s voice filled the small space.
Kaylee cleared her throat. “Yep,” she managed as she pulled the covers to her chin and sat up. “Right here.” She waved and then rubbed the sleepiness from her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Shima set down a mug of steaming milk chocolate. “I’ll just come back later.”
“It’s all right.” Kaylee curled her legs up, tucking her feet under her bottom. Taking the mug, she sniffed the hot chocolate. “Thank you.”
“Did you have lunch? I could make you something to eat.”
“No, but thanks.” Kaylee took another sip of the cocoa. An uncomfortable silence filled the room, and Kaylee fiddled with her nails. “I…I won’t be staying long. Just until I can bury my father and—”
“You’re welcome here anytime and for as long as you need.” Shima shifted on the couch, moving closer. “I’m sorry about Rutherford.”
“Thanks,” Kaylee managed.
“Blaine’s just doing his job,” Shima commented as if she could read Kaylee’s thoughts.
“I suppose.” Kaylee dropped her head back, closing her eyes. She wasn’t sure what was worse. Being chased by the mob. Or being a suspect in her father’s murder. Both had their downside.
“I don’t mean to imply you’ll need one, but have you spoken with a criminal lawyer?”
“Hadley said he’d find me one if it came to that,” Kaylee said. “But I didn’t do anything wrong.” At least not where her father’s death was concerned.
Shima patted Kaylee’s thigh. “I don’t think you killed your father, dear, but I know how the system works. You found him; therefore, you are suspect number one.”
“Great,” Kaylee muttered. Life certainly didn’t like her much these days. Maybe it had never liked her. “Hadley will handle it.”
“I have a friend who’s a criminal lawyer; I’d like you to talk to her.” She handed Kaylee a business card.
Kaylee placed the card next to her mug. Blaine’s parents had always been good to her. Welcomed her when her father wanted to disown her. Treated her like family “Shima?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Has Blaine told you something I should know?”
Shima shook her head. “He only told me that you were here. We both want to help you though this.”
“Thanks,” Kaylee said. The softness in Shima’s expression couldn’t be ignored.
Shima reached out and ran the backs of her fingers across Kaylee’s cheek. “I know I might have said some things to you long ago that I shouldn’t have, but I was worried that the two of you had gotten yourselves in over your heads.”
“That we did.” Kaylee took a deep breath. “We were just kids ourselves. We had no business getting married or having a baby.”
“But you did, and too many people tried to interfere, myself included. I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” Kaylee picked up her cocoa and took a long sip. Shima had always made it with real milk, and it was still the best in town. “I’m going crazy not knowing what happened. I don’t even know if I should be planning his funeral, or what.”
“I’m sure Hadley will know what to do.” Shima rose. “I’ll let you rest. Tell Blaine I’ve got a meeting around seven, and if I don’t see him tonight, I’ll see him in the morning. And Kaylee?” Shima stopped at the door. “Let Blaine help you. He knows what he’s doing.”
Kaylee leaned against the doorjamb as Shima glided down the staircase toward the house. The sun had begun its descent behind the horizon and a red glow gleamed across the sky. The air was still but cold. Kaylee wrapped her arms around her middle.
If Nino De Luca had any idea where she’d gone, then he was already here. He wouldn’t think twice about teaching her what happened to those who ran out on a De Luca. Being arrested for her father’s murder and going to jail seemed safer than hanging out over Blaine’s garage, waiting for someone to come stick a knife in her back. Again.
Blaine tossed the ME’s report across his desk. It didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already suspect. Rutherford’s death was ruled a homicide. Some of the injuries could be consistent with a fall down the stairs, except for the bullet in his stomach.
“I didn’t think you’d like that report,” Dave said, standing in the doorway.
“Just makes our job that much more difficult.“ Blaine leaned back in his chair.
“This one is my job and my job alone.”
“You can’t completely take me off the case. You and I, and Williams, are the only full-timers here.” But Blaine certainly understood Dave’s position.
“You can do grunt work. Analyze shit, but everything comes by me. You can’t do anything officially without me okaying it.” Dave raised a brow.
“Fine,” Blaine said. “Did Jonesy and Mac find anything?”
“Other than Kaylee’s gun?” Dave shook his head. “It was registered as Kaylee Walker.”
Blaine’s heart jolted for a brief moment as he filed those words into the scheme of things. She kept his name? “Does it match the bullet found at the scene?”
“Nine millimeter, but Rutherford owned two, and your personal weapon is the same.”
“Half the town probably owns a nine millimeter.”
Dave leaned over the desk and hit the intercom button. “Stacey, get someone to go to Blaine’s house and pick up Ms. Mead for some more questioning.”
“Sure thing,” Stacey replied.
“I’d better warn her,” Blaine said as he picked up the phone and dialed his home number.
“Did Williams fingerprint her? Swab her hands?”
Blaine closed his eyes for a brief moment, allowing the flash of anger to lessen before he spoke. “Everything was done by the book.”
“She stayed at your house last night, and the book has nothing to do with that.”
“I couldn’t let my ex-wife stay at a motel alone.”
“When was the last time you fired your personal weapon?” Dave gave him an apologetic glance.
“Three days ago,” he said, lifting the phone to his ear. “I’ll take the residue test, and any other test you want, right after I get—” A click rang in his ear indicating someone had
answered.
“Walker Residence.” Kaylee’s voice sang in his ears, turning the boiling rage rushing through his veins into something he didn’t want to acknowledge.
“Hey.” His voice caught, and he had to clear his throat. “I’ve sent someone to bring you down to the station.”
“Wh…why?”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, the nausea rose up from his gut. It had been three months since his last migraine, and today wouldn’t be a good day to get one. “Your father’s death was ruled a homicide,” he said as compassionately as he could. “I’ll call Hadley.”
“No,” Kaylee said with conviction in her voice.
“Kaylee, it’s for your own protection. We might have to—”
Dave waved his hand. “Her gun hadn’t been fired,” he whispered.
That didn’t make Blaine feel better.
“I understand that, but he’s not a criminal lawyer. I’m not sure he’s ever seen the inside of a courtroom.”
“You need a good lawyer, and Hadley is just that.”
“Shima recommended someone else. Her name is—”
“Emma Peterson.” Good Lord in heaven. What the hell was his mother thinking?
“You know her?”
“I’ll call her for you.” Blaine rubbed his neck. “Someone should be there any minute.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“You can’t question her. I’ll send Williams in.”
“I’m going to have to be able to ask something. You can’t tie my hands so tightly that it will weaken the department.”
“Williams does the questioning.” Dave stepped out of Blaine’s office. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect for the man to leave.
Spots flickered about in front of Blaine’s eyes. He reached for his desk drawer, pulling out a shot of his medication, and prayed like hell it would work. He winced as he jabbed himself with the needle.
He smacked the intercom button. “Stacey, call Emma Peterson and tell her I need her in my office ASAP. Tell her it’s about the Rutherford Mead murder. And tell Williams to be in my office in ten minutes.” He pushed his chair back, dropped his head between his knees, and breathed deeply.
He forced himself to inhale through his nose and breathe out of his mouth. The nausea had eased up, but the pounding between his ears had only intensified. He stayed like that for a long moment—at least five minutes—letting the medicine take over. His pulse slowed and his body relaxed, but he knew this migraine wasn’t going away.
“Blaine?” Stacey said, stepping into his office with a mug in her hands. “Miss Peterson said she’d be here in about fifteen minutes.” Stacey set the cup of coffee on his desk. “Caffeine is supposed to help.”
He looked up at his secretary. “I’m fine, but thanks.”
“Also, Jonesy is pulling in with Kaylee.”
“Bring her down.” He took the coffee and sipped. He ran a hand across his damp forehead. “Ask Dave to join us,” he yelled, holding his throbbing head. Kaylee was wreaking havoc on his system. He looked out the window, collecting himself.
“I know that look.” Kaylee seemed to appear out of nowhere and stood a few feet from him, looking just like the young girl he had fallen in love with so many years ago. “Migraine?” Her long, blonde hair flowed over her shoulders, and she had that soft smile on her angelic face that she’d always greeted him with.
That did nothing to help the pain bouncing between his ears. He nodded, unable to say anything.
“Why am I here?” she asked, stepping around his desk. Clasping her hands together, she rubbed them vigorously before she raised them to his forehead, applying the perfect amount of pressure.
Her soothing fingers eased his pain, and not just in his head. “No one has hands like you.” He relaxed in his chair.
“Did you call that lawyer? What was her name? Patterson or something?”
“Emma Peterson.” He stood, pulling himself from her touch. “I had my secretary call her. She should be here shortly.” Just his luck. His ex-wife and his ex-girlfriend in the same room. When he and Emma had dated, she’d accused him of still being in love with Kaylee. He’d denied it, of course, but he also knew there was a ring of truth to her words. He walked to the window and stared at the few clouds floating about the blue sky. He hadn’t loved Emma, but that didn’t matter in the end.
“Your mother said Ms. Peterson is a friend of hers.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
Blaine’s cell phone vibrated on his hip. “Walker.”
“What is this about Rutherford Mead?” Emma bellowed. “Isn’t that your ex-wife’s father?”
“Yes, and she needs your help.” He glanced to Kaylee, who was sitting down with a frown on her beautiful face.
“Oh, just great. You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“If it makes you feel better, you’re the last person I would’ve suggested. My mother recommended you to her.”
“Your mother? Well, I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me.”
Blaine didn’t want to hate Emma, but part of him would never be able to forgive her. She’d been right about one thing, though. He’d been unable to get over Kaylee. Not something he liked to admit. “She’s in my office.”
“I’m five minutes out.”
Blaine closed his phone. He wanted to continue to stare out the window, because he knew facing Kaylee at the moment wouldn’t be a pleasant experience, but he turned anyway.
“If you wouldn’t have called her, why is she coming?” Kaylee shifted in her chair, her pale face drained of color.
“Because you said you wanted her.”
“I’m not in the mood for games,” Kaylee snapped. “I’m your only suspect in a murder I didn’t commit and now you’re setting me up with a lawyer you wouldn’t call. There are so many conflicts of interest here, it’s insane.”
“She’s a good lawyer, one of the best. I wouldn’t have called her for different reasons.” He filled his lungs with air, but got a jolt of strawberries and vanilla instead. “She doesn’t have to like you to help you.”
“What have you gotten me into?” she asked.
The reflection of the sun hitting her soft-blue eyes showed all her vulnerabilities. It was hard not to feel for the woman. “I’m trying to keep you out of trouble.”
Her lips parted as if she was going to say something, but she stared at him instead.
“Please trust me,” he whispered as he took a tentative step toward her. He could no longer resist the primal need to touch her. When he pulled her to his chest, she felt perfect. The desire to feel the connection he’d had with her was stronger than the desire to protect his own heart.
Her fists pushed against his chest. “I don’t trust you.”
“Excuse me,” Emma said, then cleared her throat. “I need to talk to my client.” She gave Blaine a deadly glare. “Alone.”
The pounding in his head erupted once again. “You’ve got to trust me,” he said.
Wide, frightened eyes blinked at him. “You don’t make it easy.”
“You’ve got ten minutes.” Without giving either woman a second glance, Blaine left the office.
“Gee, thanks,” Emma said.
Kaylee eyed the professional woman pulling out all sorts of papers from her briefcase, trying to figure out the real connection between Emma and Blaine.
Kaylee knotted her fists and applied pressure to the base of her back before she settled down into one of the most uncomfortable chairs in the world.
“Do you know why the police have asked you to the station?”
Well, Emma didn’t hold back any punches. “I’m the one who found my father. All Blaine said was that they were treating this as a homicide.” While Emma flipped open a legal pad, Kaylee noticed how rigid Emma appeared. She wore her dark-brown hair in a tight ponytail. Her face was expressionless. She sat like she had a stick shoved halfway up her ass. Emma just looked cold.
“You found your father dea
d,” Emma said.
“Yes,” Kaylee said.
“What happened next?”
“Blaine showed up.”
Emma arched a brow. “You didn’t call for help?” Emma studied her with suspicious eyes.
“I was about to, but Blaine got there first. I had the phone in my hand.” Kaylee’s pulse tripled.
“Do you know how he died?”
“Blaine said he’d been shot.”
“Do you own a gun?”
“Yes.” Kaylee tried not to show her fear.
Emma jotted something down, then asked, “Did you kill your father?”
Kaylee shifted her gaze, narrowing at Emma’s unnerving eyes. “No.”
“Okay. Let’s get Blaine back in here and get on with this.”
“Wait.” Kaylee shifted to get a better look at Emma. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.” She felt a coldness glide across the air like morning frost.
“Ask away,” Emma said, not moving a muscle, staring directly at Kaylee. It was a bit unnerving.
“Shima recommended you, but I get the feeling you—”
“My personal life doesn’t affect my professional one.”
At this moment Kaylee wondered if she was dealing with the ice princess herself. “Hadley Danks—”
“Is not a criminal lawyer. However, I will be consulting him since he’s handling your father’s estate. He should be here…” she glanced at her watch, “in about a half hour to go over some things with us.” Emma brought her icy glare back to Kaylee.
“That’s another issue,” Kaylee said.
“What?”
“I don’t have much money, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my father left me nothing. I’m not sure how I could pay you.”
Emma showed the first spark of emotion, a slight flicker of amusement in her eyes, and Kaylee’s confidence faltered, but she hoped she didn’t show it. “We’ll worry about that if Blaine arrests you.” She paused and ran her fingers through her ponytail. When she looked back at Kaylee, a softness had cut through her frigid exterior and she looked close to human. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. The fact that he called me before an arrest tells me he’s only trying to protect you.”
