by Chris Taylor
And then sadly that so-called “safer career choice” had cost him his life. It was sad, when Jacob thought about it. He couldn’t help but wonder if his father had regretted his decision to give up his dream and climb off the bucking bulls. It reminded him of his own decision to pursue medicine.
At the time, it had been more of a reaction to needing something to do now that his dream of being a police officer was shattered. Luckily, over the years, he found he really enjoyed being a doctor and he was good at it. There was nothing like the buzz that came with the knowledge he’d saved someone’s life.
With a soft sigh, Jacob switched off the ignition and turned to face the woman who sat beside him. Her long blond hair had been plaited over her shoulder and hung across one breast. His gaze strayed to the cleavage that peeked out from her pink-and-white, checked cowboy shirt. He didn’t know where she’d gotten it, but he hazarded a guess that until recently, it hadn’t been part of her wardrobe.
The street light softly illuminated the curves and planes of her face. Even in the dimness, her beauty stole his breath.
“I hope you had a good time tonight,” he murmured, breaking the silence.
She turned in her seat to face him and offered him a gentle smile. “Yes, thank you, it was great. The most fun I’ve had for a long time. I can’t believe those men can fall like that and get stomped on and still get up again. Most of them walk away with barely a limp.”
“Yes, if they’re lucky. It was a good show tonight. Everybody got to go home. It isn’t always like that.”
She shuddered. “I’m glad I didn’t have to witness one of the riders getting seriously injured, or worse.” She paused and then added, “Thank you for inviting me. It was exciting, and I had a really good time.”
Her gaze remained on his. Long seconds passed. Jacob’s heart thumped. Desire coursed through him, hot and urgent, and centered in his cock. Because of her reaction so many times since they’d reconnected, he’d hardly dared to think about Hannah in any way other than as the girlfriend of a friend who’d been killed. But right here, right now, with her seated a foot away, it was beyond him not to wonder how it would feel to take her in his arms and pull her to him and kiss her until both of them were breathless and wild with need.
And then he didn’t want to wonder a second longer. He leaned slowly toward her. She didn’t move away. His lips found hers and he sighed quietly in relief. A moment later, it registered in his brain that she was kissing him back.
It was like a dam had released, like a switch was flicked. He groaned deep in his throat and dragged her as near as the gear shift would allow. He kissed her with increasing pressure, trying hard to control himself, but almost frantic with need. Heat traveled along his veins and exploded in his groin. He kissed her again and again. He couldn’t get enough.
Instinctively, his hand reached out and cupped her breast through the soft fabric of her shirt. It filled his palm to overflowing. He stroked her nipple and it pebbled instantly beneath his thumb. He groaned against her mouth. His cock was rock-hard and throbbing. He was desperate for her touch. Releasing her breast, he took her hand and gently pressed it against his erection.
She gasped and her eyes flew open, dazed and wide with shock. “Jacob! I… I’m sorry. I-I think I ought to go in.”
He blinked and shook his head to clear it, staring at her in confusion. “What the…?”
“I’m really sorry. Do you mind waking your brother and bringing him in?”
Somehow, he managed to nod and then climbed down out of the truck. Making his way around to her side of the truck, he opened her door.
“Thank you again for the lovely evening,” she said in a rush and then stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss against his cheek. Moments later, she disappeared along the path that led inside her apartment building.
* * *
Hannah stared down at the pages of the scrapbook that were spread open across her bed. She’d heard Toby close the door to his room and had listened to the sound of Jacob’s truck rumbling away. Silent tears made tracks down her damp cheeks.
She’d done it to him again: Let him think there could be something between them and then push him away. It wasn’t fair. She owed him much more than that. She owed him honesty and maturity. She owed the same things to herself.
She turned over a page in the scrapbook and was assailed with memories. Pictures of three wedding dresses in different styles covered the surface. She remembered poring over bridal magazines for months during her senior year, choosing one dress after another and carefully cutting them out. It had been like a fairytale, an endless golden dream. Her knight in shining armor was waiting to claim her for his bride.
And then the fairytale was over, shattered beyond belief and all she was left with was a scrapbook of broken dreams.
But that was more than a decade ago and she now realized the prince might not have been all that he seemed. It was funny how utterly perfect Luke had been back when they were both eighteen. Looking back, she wondered if he’d been as devoted to her as she’d been to him. They’d promised to save themselves for marriage, but even before his death, she’d had niggling doubts about his sincerity.
It wasn’t like she’d caught him in an outright lie. It was more the subtle things like the time she found a note from a girl in his locker and he swore he knew nothing about it. The note hinted at a level of intimacy with him that even Hannah hadn’t reached and even though she believed him, her heart hadn’t been quite convinced.
Still, thanks to Jacob Black, they’d never been given the opportunity to know whether their love would go the distance.
Jacob.
She wanted to keep hating him, but she couldn’t. He was so much more than the man who’d caused the loss of her boyfriend’s life. He was a man who’d suffered for his crimes and had paid the price in ways she’d never imagined. The man who loved his family. The man who made her heart race. The man she wanted to touch and be touched by. The man she could fall in love with, if she let herself.
Turning another page, Hannah smiled sadly at the names she’d written there. Brandon, Emily and Jack. They were the names of the children she’d dreamed of having; children who would look exactly like their dad. Only, she could hardly remember what Luke had looked like, apart from the fact his hair was brown. Oh, and he had brown eyes, too. Or perhaps they’d been hazel? It saddened her that she couldn’t remember.
Was it a sign that she’d finally let it go and put the past where it belonged? Was it because of Jacob? Was that the reason Luke’s image was no longer clear?
Swiping at her tears with the back of her hand, she sniffed and brought her knees up to her chest. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she rested her head on her knees. A long sigh escaped her and with it, the pain of the past. Luke was her yesterday. It was time to look to the future and make new memories, new dreams. Alone or with Jacob, only time would tell.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lane Black stared at the middle-aged claims officer of the General & Life Insurance Company and frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said, “could you repeat that?”
The woman, whose name badge identified her as Diandra Robinson, rolled her eyes and shook her head, sending her double chins wobbling.
“It’s really very simple, Detective. Like I said, the claim has been paid out. That file was closed last week.”
“That seems awfully fast,” Lane replied, scribbling in his notepad. “Christopher Lowrey only died a couple of months ago. The way I’ve heard it, these kind of things can drag on for years.”
“Yes, in some cases that’s true, Detective, but this one was straightforward. The policy owner furnished us with a death certificate which indicated there were no suspicious circumstances and we paid the claim. We pride ourselves on our efficiency. As far as we’re concerned, the matter has been dealt with. Truly, I’m at a loss as to why you’re here.”
Lane struggled to hold onto his patience. “There have been some new developments. The
y might relate to this case.”
The woman frowned and scratched at her gray curls. “What kind of new developments?”
“Let’s just say there’s another case with similarities too striking to ignore and we’re looking into it. Edward Sutton’s life was also insured by your company. The latest autopsy report seems to indicate the man’s death was likely not accidental. We’re wondering if the same might be true for Christopher Lowery.”
The claims officer paled. “Are you talking suicide, or something else?” Her voice took on a note of panic. “Please don’t tell me it was suicide. Our policy expressly excludes suicide! We’ve already paid out the claim.” She gripped the sides of her head. “What am I going to do?”
Lane offered what little reassurance he could. “We haven’t yet confirmed any anomalies in Mr Lowery’s death. Another autopsy will require exhumation of the body. We’re gathering further information before we decide if we have enough to take it to a judge.”
His assurances did little to ease the panic from her face. She continued to wring her hands. Lane tried again.
“If it helps you any, the forensic pathologist ruled out suicide in the most recent death. The blood alcohol levels in that deceased were too high for him to be making any kind of conscious decisions. It was a wonder he could even stand. We’re investigating it as a homicide.”
The relief on the woman’s face was palpable. She put a fleshy hand to her chest.
“Oh, thank goodness! You don’t know how relieved that makes me feel. Homicide is fine. Death by homicide is covered under the policy… Provided the beneficiary wasn’t the one who did the killing.” Once again, her expression was filled with concern. “You said the deceased was insured by General & Life. Do you have a suspect? It’s not the owner of the policy, is it?”
Lane compressed his lips. “It’s early days into the investigation. At this stage, we don’t know who’s responsible.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Do you mind telling me if there’s been a claim made on the life of Edward Sutton? I understand the policy is also owned by Robert Grace.”
Diandra shrugged. “Of course. A client is usually allocated the same claims officer, even for different claims, but every now and then they are allocated to someone else. For example, if I was away on leave when the subsequent claim came in or something like that, it would be handed to another officer in our building to deal with.” She tapped on the keys and scanned the computer screen.
“Robert Grace. Yes, here he is. He’s listed as owning life insurance policies over Christopher Lowrey—which is the file I just closed—Edward Sutton—the man you just mentioned—and another man by the name of Toby Black.”
She peered up at him. “Is that what you were after?”
Lane clenched his jaw in an effort not to snap at the woman. “I was already in possession of that information, Ms Robinson. What I’d like to know is if Mr Grace has made a claim on the Sutton policy. Mr Sutton died a little over a month ago.”
Once again, the woman tapped away at her keyboard. A moment later, she nodded. “Yes, it’s as I suspected. The claim was filed last week. I’m afraid I’ve been away sick. It must have come in while I was indisposed. It was allocated to one of our other claims officers. I guess that’s why I wasn’t aware of it.”
Lane tensed. “So, a claim has been filed? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes… No.” She looked uncomfortable. “What I mean is, a claim’s been made, but we’re still waiting for the death certificate. Naturally, we never pay out a claim without proof the insured’s life has come to an end.”
“So Robert Grace has claimed on both policies, all in the space of less than two months. Hasn’t anyone in this office decided that might be a little strange?”
Diandra’s discomfort deepened. She stared at her keyboard. “I’ve only just become aware Mr Grace has two claims in the system. I can only assume Andrew Bloomberg—that’s the claim officer dealing with the later claim—isn’t aware of the claim I dealt with earlier. It’s no one’s fault, Detective, if that’s what you’re implying.”
Her voice had taken on a defensive tone. Lane was quick to reassure her because he needed more information from her. “Tell me, the claim you managed—the claim over Christopher Lowrey… Was it paid out by way of check or bank deposit?”
“Company policy is for all claims to be paid by way of direct bank deposit.”
“I’d appreciate it if you could provide me with the details of Robert Grace’s bank account.”
The woman frowned. “I’m not sure—”
Lane shot her his most charming smile. “Ms Robinson, you and I are on the same side. We get up each day and go to work. We try hard to do what’s right. We take satisfaction from knowing we’ve done an honest day’s work and helped someone out along the way. Now, I don’t know where this investigation is going or what will be important and what won’t, but any information you have on the claim could help me, and possibly prevent another crime.”
She lowered her gaze and her lip wobbled, her earlier bravado gone. A moment later, Lane spied two fat tears in her eyes. “You… You still think Robert Grace might have defrauded the company, don’t you? Or worse?”
Lane held her gaze and gave her the truth. “Yes.”
“Oh, my goodness! What if the company blames me for not seeing it? What if I lose my job?”
Lane remained silent, unable to offer her any reassurance. With a sniff, the claims officer swiped at her eyes and opened the file on her desk. Flipping over a few pages, she ran a finger down a type-written form.
“Robert Grace provided us with details related to an account held with the National Bank. In accordance with our usual procedure, and at our client’s request, five-hundred thousand dollars, less fees, was deposited into that account.”
Lane absorbed the information. While it didn’t come as a surprise, it supported his growing conviction that Robert Grace was, in some way, tied to the death of at least one of his brother’s coworkers. Lane felt a sense of foreboding when he thought about Toby. His extremely vulnerable brother could be in danger. The thought sent a shiver of apprehension down his spine. He had to call Jacob and bring him up to date. He had to impress upon him the need to keep a close eye on his twin.
Explaining the situation to Toby, wasn’t an option. If they tried to tell him one of his work colleagues might be trying to do away with him, he’d more than likely find the idea hysterically funny and think it was a joke. It would never occur to him that such a thing could happen—had probably already happened.
Lane’s jaw tightened with determination. Getting to the bottom of what was happening to the employees of the Max Grace Funeral Home had suddenly become a priority. He’d go to his boss, bring him up to speed and then get authorization to follow up on his hunch to prove that Robert Grace was an evil man who needed to be removed from the streets and the funeral home where he worked, much too closely with his brother.
* * *
Jacob tried to concentrate on the cheerful banter that filled the tearoom housed just off to the side from the emergency department’s ward. Memories of the rodeo kept distracting him: the magical kiss he and Hannah shared in the cab of his truck, the fire and passion that had consumed them…
Though she’d ended things rather abruptly and hadn’t responded to his early-morning text, it had been a less abrupt departure than the previous time and he wouldn’t believe her if she told him she hadn’t enjoyed it as much as he had. He wasn’t sure what upset her this time, but he wasn’t going to sit back and let things slide.
He’d had a crush on her as a kid. From as far back as he could remember, she’d set his heart on fire: a casual smile, a shared joke… Sometimes it had been no more than a friendly look. It hadn’t seemed to matter. The only reason he hadn’t told her how he felt back then was because she’d been in love with his best mate.
He respected and supported their relationship and the fact that Hannah, at least, was in love. And t
hen the fateful night in November had happened and everything had been turned on its head…
“Doctor Black, your phone’s ringing.”
The gentle prompt interrupted his dark thoughts. He glanced up at the nurse who’d spoken to him. “Thanks, Polly.”
He reached down and picked up his phone off the table. A sudden surge of hope flooded through him at the thought it might be Hannah and then he glanced at the screen and his heart plummeted.
Lane.
Pushing back his chair, he stood and moved out of earshot, unwilling to have his conversation overheard by his colleagues. He assumed Lane was calling with an update regarding Bobby Grace and the insurance claim. “Lane, how are you doing?”
“Good. Are you at work?”
“Yeah, but I’m on a break. What did you find out?”
“I spoke to the claims officer at General & Life. She confirmed two claims have been made by your old cellmate on the policies held in the names of Christopher Lowery and Edward Sutton. They already paid out the first one.”
Jacob’s heart pounded. “Let me guess, it was paid to The Bobster.”
“Good guess, bro. Deposited right into his account.”
Jacob tried to slow down his breathing. He felt like tearing The Bobster limb by limb. He couldn’t believe the man he’d trusted with his life and considered a loyal friend, at least while he’d been a prison inmate, would murder innocent people for money—and that he might have Jacob’s brother in his sights. It just didn’t fit with the man he’d known.
But that was a nearly a decade ago…
The thought fell into his mind and stuck there. It was true. The Bobster was only nineteen when Jacob met him. Two years later, Jacob had served his time and was released. He hadn’t seen his cellmate since. A lot could happen to a man in ten years—for the better, or for the worse. How did he know the young man hadn’t changed—grown harder, angrier, more aggressive?
