by Jane Godman
“I don’t think so.” There was only so much he could tell her about the case, but he was conscious of Hester listening avidly to every word. Sarah’s sister-in-law was one of the most kindhearted women he knew, but she was addicted to gossip. Red Ridge already had its fair share of rumors. Brayden didn’t want to be responsible for starting another. He certainly didn’t want to alert the Larson brothers that he was checking up on their associates. “We’re sure that Jack was killed by the Groom Killer and there’s no suggestion that Richie is linked to those murders. Even so, I’d like to find out how Jack knew him.”
“Jack kept detailed notes of every case he worked on,” Esmée said. “We used to joke about it because I’d ask him when he thought he was ever going to need them. But he’d just say you never knew when they might prove useful.”
Sarah smiled. “That sounds like Jack.”
“Do you know where his notebooks are now?” Esmée asked.
“All his stuff from Chicago is mostly in the apartment he was renting over Andy’s Liquor Store.” Sarah’s shoulders drooped again. “He’d started to move a few boxes into my garage ready for when we were married, but he hadn’t gotten very far.”
“If it’s okay with Sarah, I’d like to look for those notebooks.” Esmée looked at Brayden. “I could go through them to see if there’s any reference to Richie Lyman.”
Brayden nodded. “Sounds like a good use of your research skills.”
“It’s fine with me,” Sarah said. “Anything that helps.”
“Can we keep this between us?” Brayden looked around the table. Hester liked to talk, but she had once been a police officer. She wouldn’t ignore a direct appeal for discretion... At least that was what he hoped.
“Of course.” Hester nodded as she rose from her seat. “You can count on me.”
Brayden decided not to look in Esmée’s direction. That mischievous sparkle in her eyes had a tendency to draw him in and make him laugh at the most inappropriate moments. “Thank you.” He kept his voice and expression suitably grave.
They wound up the visit by making arrangements for Rhys’s care during the times when Esmée would be working. It was good to see the animation on Sarah’s features when she talked about her plans for looking after the little boy.
“There’s one thing he will really love,” Hester said.
“Oh, good Lord, yes.” Sarah smiled. “Seems my old Bella-cat must have found herself a gentleman friend. She went missing a few weeks ago and I wondered if I’d ever see her again. Then, I heard a noise at the back of the garage and found Bella and her four babies.”
“Kittens? Rhys may never leave.” Esmée laughed. “Although, after a few hours spent with a two-year-old, the cats may pack their bags.”
“I think it will do Sarah as much good as it will Rhys,” Brayden said, as they waved Hester’s car out of sight.
“It’s probably the best form of rehabilitation,” Esmée agreed. “Kittens and kids. What could go wrong?”
As they went back into the house, he noticed it already had a different feel to it. There were toys on the kitchen floor, cups on the counter, a bowl of fruit on the table, chairs out of place, windows open wide... It looked like a home.
“I have to take Echo for his training.” He clicked his fingers and the dog moved to his side.
Esmée was already loading coffee cups into the dishwasher. “I’ll have dinner ready for when you get back.”
For the first time in a long time, it felt like a home.
Chapter 9
After Brayden and Echo returned from their training session, Esmée served the chicken casserole she had prepared.
“Ignore Echo’s puppy-dog eyes,” Brayden said. “He ate dinner at the training ground and he’s developing way too many bad habits lately.”
Seated around the large, scrubbed pine table, there was an unspoken accord between them. The temptation to discuss the Groom Killer, Richie Lyman and any potential connection between the two was there, but they ignored it. Instead, they had focused on Rhys, who wanted to talk about his toy animals and the different sounds they made.
Later, Brayden cleared away the dinner dishes while Esmée gave Rhys his bath and put him to bed. With his familiar toys around him, Rhys had no problem with being in a different room. Once she was sure he was asleep, she joined Brayden in the family room.
Placing the baby monitor on the oak coffee table that dominated the center of the room, she curled into a corner of the sofa that was at a right angle to his seat. “He seems to have settled in just fine.”
“He talks really well for someone who had a problem. Was there a medical reason for the delay?”
Esmée leaned her head back against the cushions. It was a simple enough question and she had never been averse to providing a superficial answer. For the first time, she felt a desire to confide the full story. She already knew she could trust Brayden, but this went beyond her belief in his reliability. It was about a feeling that she could unload some of her burdens onto him. And that was a little bit frightening. Because she had never felt that way. Even with Jack, who had been the closest thing she’d had to a protector.
She could feel Brayden watching her profile, so she turned her head to look at him. His gaze was steady and nonjudgmental. Would that change if she told him the truth?
“No, there was no medical reason.” Her hands twisted in her lap as she remembered that awful night. “It was my fault.”
“Hey...” Brayden was at her side as the first tear slid down her cheek, his arm slipping around her shoulders. “I don’t know what happened, but I already know that’s not true.”
She leaned against him, grateful for the strong muscles of his chest beneath her cheek. “I’ve never told anyone this story. The only person who knew what happened was Jack, because he was there at the time.”
“I’m here now if you want to tell me,” Brayden said. “I’ve always preferred listening to talking.”
She moved slightly away, not breaking the contact between them completely, but giving herself space to concentrate. Brayden’s nearness wasn’t good for maintaining a clear head.
“Rhys was born in Wales. His father, Gwyn Owen, owned a farm just outside the town of Glanrafon, where I was making my documentary. We began our relationship almost immediately.” Looking back, it was so easy to see the warning signs. At the time, she’d been blissfully unaware. “I’m not making excuses, but I was dazzled by Gwyn. He was so attentive, so—” She searched for the right words and failed to find them. “He seemed too good to be true. Turned out he was. I’m sorry, I don’t know if I’m making any sense.”
“I don’t have any wine, but if this is a conversation that would go better with a beer, I can oblige.”
She nodded. “Beer would be good.”
He went through to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of beer. Esmée’s heart gave a little skip of pleasure when he returned to sit beside her instead of resuming his former place. She tried telling herself it was because his presence was comforting, but her own honesty wouldn’t allow that deception. She just liked being close to him.
After taking a swallow of the cool liquid, she felt refreshed enough to continue. “Having a baby was the last thing on my mind, but once I knew I was pregnant, it felt like an important reason to make things work with Gwyn. I was trying hard to convince myself I was in love with him when things started to go wrong.”
“In what way?”
“Gwyn was very controlling. It started out with little things. He began by criticizing the way I dressed, telling me I shouldn’t draw attention to myself by wearing tight jeans or short skirts. Then he’d get annoyed if he saw me talking to other men, even when I was doing it as part of my job. He hated Jack, especially as we shared a house whenever Jack came over to Wales. I mean, Jack was my friend. When Rhys was born, Gwyn barely looked
at him. All he was interested in was keeping me to himself. I could see it, but I was going along with it because I wanted a stable relationship for my baby’s sake. Finally, Jack intervened. He made me confront what was happening. The documentary was over, Jack was coming home to America and I realized I wasn’t happy.” She drew in a shaky breath. “It was when I tried to leave that things got really bad.”
Brayden took her hand, placing it on his own knee and holding it there with his own hand over it. “Take your time.”
“I’m okay. It’s just hard, even after all this time, because it was so unexpected.” She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the rage on Gwyn’s face, the first blow. Her own instinct had been to protect Rhys... “Gwyn attacked me.”
Brayden’s fingers gripped hers a little tighter. “He did what?”
“He beat me.” It was easier to say out loud than she’d expected. Over a year had passed. The physical injuries had healed quickly, but the emotional hurt had taken much longer. The feelings of guilt, that she was to blame, and the fear that, through her actions, she had caused harm to her son...those things had lingered. Still lingered. “Jack found out later that Gwyn had previous convictions for similar offenses. There is a law in the UK that allows you to check if a partner has a violent past.” She gave a shaky little laugh. “Gwyn was on the register of offenders, but because I didn’t know about it, I hadn’t checked.”
Brayden exhaled, long and slow. “I don’t know what to say except how sorry I am that you went through that. How did you get away?”
“Jack came home at just the right time. He heard my cries, burst into my bedroom and pulled Gwyn off me. But Rhys was in his crib in my room. He saw it all. And he stopped talking.” She took another slug of beer. “Jack took over then. He did all the practical things, while I focused on Rhys. Jack helped me deal with the local police, got us to the American embassy in London, organized a passport for Rhys and brought us home within a few days. I had a couple of broken ribs and some interesting bruises, but the real damage? That was done to my baby.”
A little sob rose in her throat as she said the words. She choked it back and tried out a smile instead. “It’s in the past. I’m fine. More important than that, Rhys is okay. Thanks to you and Echo, he’s talking again.”
“You said it was your fault he stopped talking, but you’re wrong. You couldn’t have foreseen what would happen, Esmée.” The gentleness in Brayden’s tone was like a hug, almost undoing her composure. “There was only one person to blame and that was the lowlife who used his fists on you.”
“Rhys stopped talking because I made the wrong choices. I knew Gwyn was bad news, yet I stayed with him.” She had been over and over this in her own mind. “That makes it my fault. I can’t turn the clock back. All I can do is make sure it never happens again.”
“You think he’ll come after you? Because if he does—”
Esmée shook her head. “Jack took care of the legalities. Gwyn had been serving a prison sentence for a previous offense and had been released early. Attacking me violated the terms of his parole and he went back to jail. He’s still there. I took out a restraining order against him and Gwyn has agreed that I should have sole custody of Rhys. If he follows us once he’s released, my lawyers will be ready for him.” She gave a grim smile. “As for me, I’ve been taking self-defense classes. If anyone comes at me with their fists in the future, I’ll know how to fight back. No, I mean I will never put Rhys in that position again because I won’t allow another man into our lives.”
“Esmée—” Brayden ducked his head to get a closer look at her face “—I understand how much this must have scared you, but the chances of the next man you get involved with being an abuser are pretty much nonexistent.”
“No, you don’t understand. I don’t think all men are abusers. I wouldn’t be scared of getting into another relationship for that reason. I’m well aware I probably wouldn’t pick a bad guy next time, but I’m not going there. All that matters to me from now on is my son’s well-being.”
Her hand shook slightly as she raised the bottle to her lips again. She’d never said that out loud. Never voiced the weight of guilt and responsibility that had gone along with what had happened. Not even to Jack, who had been there and seen it.
“What about your well-being?”
She blinked at the slightly harsh note in Brayden’s voice. “What do you mean?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I understand why you want to protect Rhys, but you have a life as well. Don’t lock yourself away because of a bad experience.”
“I’m a woman, so I need a man to complete me?” She threw the challenge at him, her mood changing swiftly. Just because she’d confided in him, it didn’t mean she’d given him permission to analyze her.
Brayden didn’t appear to be intimidated by her scowl, or the way she folded her arms across her chest, establishing a barrier between them. “That’s not what I meant. If you choose to stay single, do it because there is no one you want to be with, not because it’s something you’ve imposed on yourself as a punishment for what happened to Rhys.”
Esmée’s initial reaction was to flare back at him with an angry reply. But as she glared at him, she saw the answering concern in the depths of his eyes. She might not have asked for his opinion, but he was giving it for the right reasons. In the short time she’d known Brayden Colton, she’d come to depend on his integrity. He wouldn’t sugarcoat a message if he thought she needed to hear it. And maybe it was time she heard this one.
She huffed out a breath. “I thought you said you were better at listening than talking? I’m supposed to be the interviewer around here.”
“I guess some things need to be said.” His smile triggered a chain reaction deep inside her, a slow, melting sensation that left her feeling lethargic yet tingling all over. “Just one more thing before I get us another beer and you decide what we watch on TV.”
She regarded him in fascination. “Another insight?”
“Possibly. You said Rhys was the only one who sustained any lasting hurt that night.” The brief touch of his fingertips on her cheek was comforting and disturbing at the same time. “Are you quite sure about that?”
* * *
Once he and Echo had completed their morning training the next day, Brayden headed toward the police-department building on foot. He had left his car there earlier, having spent an hour searching through records in an attempt to identify the shooter in the mountains. The guy’s size was his main identifying feature. Other than that, there was nothing about his appearance that made him stand out. So far, his quest had proved fruitless, but he was determined to keep trying.
Although his stride was purposeful, his thoughts were distracted. He didn’t have to do any deep soul-searching to find the reason for his preoccupation. Just lately, no matter what he was doing, there was only one thing on his mind... Esmée.
A week ago, if he’d been offered the choice of having strangers living in his house, he’d have run a mile in the opposite direction to avoid it. Throw in the complication that those strangers were a woman and a child? A mile wouldn’t have been far enough. Then add that the woman was beautiful and that he was attracted to her... Well, the distance he’d have gone to avoid their current situation just kept growing.
But circumstances had taken over. He’d gotten to know Esmée and Rhys. He’d grown to like them both. Already, he liked having them around. Instead of being a hardship, their company was pleasant. The attraction he felt for Esmée may have started with her looks, but it went so much deeper. They shared a sense of humor. A dangerously silly enjoyment of the ridiculous that threatened to spill over at the most inappropriate moments. He knew if he found something funny, she would, too. Just this morning, sitting at a desk in the office, he had overheard a remark and stored it up for later, knowing she would appreciate it. I must tell Esmée... He’d never felt so in tun
e with another person in his life.
The previous night, Esmée had confided in him, opening up to him and allowing him to see her at her most vulnerable. Later, in the darkness of his own room, Brayden had lain awake thinking about the responsibility that came with her trust in him. He didn’t have many friends. That was his choice. He certainly didn’t have people who shared intimate details of their lives with him. Not because he couldn’t be trusted, just because he didn’t invite that sort of closeness.
It’s not what I do.
Esmée had come into his life and changed that. What she’d told him about her experience in Wales had heightened his desire to protect her, even though he’d already seen at firsthand how strong she was. The knowledge that he wasn’t able to make the man who had hurt her pay for what he’d done nagged at him, but he was forced to let it go. Jack Parkowski had been there to see justice done on her behalf. Brayden felt a pang of sadness that he hadn’t known the ex-cop who had been admired by everyone who knew him.
As she’d talked, Brayden could see how much she was hurting, even though she clearly couldn’t see it herself. That vow she’d made to stay single for Rhys’s sake? It was so transparently a shield behind which she could hide. She could use it to keep herself safe and never get involved again, never risk getting hurt by another man. Maybe he should have been more tactful, but he had been determined to try to make her see that. He might be new at this whole friendship thing, but he figured that was part of it. Be honest and support each other.
Alongside his resolution to be a good friend to Esmée, he had experienced a new feeling...a desire to confide in her in return. The fear that he couldn’t trust her was long gone. They hadn’t known each other very long, but just as Esmée had entrusted him with the story of what she had endured at the hands of her violent ex, Brayden knew he could open up to her about his family. He was certain she wouldn’t use what he told her as part of the documentary.
His only worry was that, once he started talking, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Esmée and Rhys would probably flee the house before he’d even reached the story of his sixteenth birthday party and Rusty’s antics with the stripper.
