“Would you like something to drink, Cole?” Bree asked, “We have wine, beer, soda and iced tea.”
“Wine sounds fine.”
“David, why don’t you take Cole onto the patio. Since the weather’s so nice, I thought we’d eat outside,” she told Cole. “I’ll be out in a minute with our drinks.”
David led him through the sliding glass door that led to the patio.
The first thing Cole noticed was a neatly trimmed lawn bordered by colorful pansies. The seductive scent of night-blooming jasmine floated toward him from bushes planted around the house. He looked at a large tree standing sentry in a corner of the yard, with a plank-sided tree house built among its large branches. Pieces of wood nailed to the trunk served as a ladder. A yellow T-shirt he guessed to be Cody’s hung from the cut-out window. A football lay in one corner of the yard and a swing set was installed near the tree.
The evening breeze moved the wind chimes, filling the air with their light music.
A yard set up for a family, he decided with a feeling that was almost wistful. A family like this one.
He looked over at an umbrella-covered, oblong, glass-topped table already set up for the meal. David gestured toward the chairs.
“That was some story you wrote about Mom,” the teenager commented, sitting down across from him.
“People enjoyed it,” he said, secretly amused that David had deliberately sat him facing the setting sun. Cole was beginning to think he should have worn his sunglasses out here. Luckily, they wouldn’t be needed in another moment.
The young man seemed to think otherwise. “Maybe because you made her sound like a babe.”
He nodded. “Like Betty Grable during World War II.”
“From what I’ve heard,” David said dryly. “That was a bit before my time.”
Cody appeared by Cole’s side. “Do you carry a gun like Mom does?” he asked.
“No, Cody, I don’t,” he replied. “I’m lucky that I never really needed one in my line of work.”
“Then it’s good you don’t have one,” the boy said. “Guns are dangerous unless you know how to use them properly.”
Cole wanted to smile at the gravity in Cody’s voice. That he was quoting his mother, and probably his father, was evident.
“Yes, I’ve heard that,” he said. “Probably why I stay away from them.”
“Here you go,” Bree announced, carrying out two filled wineglasses. “Cody, you need to go in and wash your hands. David, will you help Sara bring the food out?”
He nodded as he pushed himself out of his chair.
“Are they always this polite?” Cole asked in an undertone as he accepted the glass Bree held out.
“No, usually they settle for tearing a person’s heart out with their teeth. If it will alleviate your mind any, Jinx won’t follow their commands.”
“Relieved? Not at all. You’re the one I need to worry about,” he said candidly.
“Really?” She affected wide-eyed innocence.
“Damn straight. You’re the one who can cause me a boatload of trouble.”
“Then there’s only one thing to say,” she said softly, tapping her glass against his. “Don’t tick me off.”
He chuckled. “I’ll make a point not to.”
“Hope you’re hungry,” Sara announced, setting serving dishes on the table.
The rich aroma of tomato and herbs was Cole’s first clue he was in for a treat.
He looked at the first home-cooked meal he’d had in some time. He hoped he wasn’t drooling, but the lasagna oozing tomato sauce, meat and cheese looked, and he soon learned, tasted much too good. He vowed not to make a pig of himself even as he took a second slice of garlic bread. Even the red wine tasted delicious.
He had to admit the lady knew how to put on a spread.
He also discovered it wasn’t so bad sharing a meal with humans under the age of twenty-one. Cody chattered about his day at school. Sara lamented that there wasn’t a mall in the vicinity, and David kept an eye on Cole as if David was the parent and Bree the child.
“This is great,” Cole exclaimed after he’d enjoyed his second helping.
“Thank you.” Bree smiled warmly.
“May I be excused now?” Sara asked, sounding about as long-suffering as any teenage girl could.
“It’s your night for dishes,” Bree said. She turned to Cole. “Do you want some coffee?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Why don’t you go into the family room and I’ll bring it in there.” She directed him to the proper room before she went into the kitchen.
Bree turned on the coffeemaker while Sara and David rinsed dishes and loaded them in the dishwasher.
“I’ll make sure Cody takes his bath and stuff,” the girl said. “I suppose you want to be alone.” She speared her stepmother with that knowing look only teenage girls can give.
Bree silently vowed to apologize to her mother for all the hell she’d put her through when she was a teenager. Even if her mom used to swear Bree would find out what it was like when she was the mother of a teenager.
“I didn’t think you’d start dating,” Sara said, as if it was a distinct impossibility.
“We’ve been discussing a case,” Bree said.
“So that’s what they call it nowadays,” David said, tongue in cheek.
When Bree returned to the family room, she found Cole standing in front of the bookcases, looking up at the wall. He was studying the photographs they’d dubbed the Fitzpatrick Rogues Gallery.
She knew what he’d see. Collages made up of school photos through the years. David in his football uniform. Sara at ballet recitals, from age eight to the year she turned thirteen and decided she wanted more than dance. Cody in his soccer togs. Pictures of Bree and Fitz. With and without the kids. Some of Fitz’s commendations framed and mounted on the wall.
Dressed in jeans, a V-necked, charcoal-colored sweater with his T-shirt showing white against the dark gray, Cole looked comfortable in his surroundings. Damn, she didn’t want to think about that.
“A true family unit,” he said, without turning around.
“Yes, we’re an oddity because we’re so normal.” She set down the tray, which held two mugs and a carafe. She poured coffee into the cups and walked over, handing one to him.
He sipped the hot liquid and nodded his approval. “What happened to his first wife?”
Bree glanced up at a photograph of a very young David and Sara with their mother and father. “She died in an auto accident ten years ago. I was the investigating officer.”
“And he was pleased with your detecting skills?”
She shook her head. “We didn’t see each other for about another year, and then we ran into each other at the courthouse. The trials we were giving testimony at were in adjoining courtrooms. He asked if I’d like to have coffee with him afterward, and as they say, the rest is history.” As always, she waited for that sting she felt whenever she mentioned Fitz. The dart of pain was so faint she almost didn’t know it was there.
She made the mistake, an error in her mind, of looking up at Cole.
He’d obviously shaved before he came because, being so close, she could see a faint nick along his jawline. He had dark eyes framed by thick lashes any woman would envy. Eyes that seemed to hold a sense of amusement as they studied her in return.
His eyes match his sweater, she thought illogically, snared by the intensity in his gaze.
“It takes a special woman to be willing to raise someone else’s kids,” he said in a low voice.
“Actually, they’re pretty low maintenance,” she admitted. “As long as you feed them three times a day, they’re happy.”
“It still couldn’t have been easy with your kind of work.”
“We managed back then and manage now.” She walked over to the couch and sank onto it, silently cursing herself for not taking one of the chairs when he sat next to her.
“Always good to hear. So
are you finally ready to figure out why those deaths happened?” he asked suddenly.
Chapter 6
Thrown by the quick change of subject, she set down her mug, using the time to come up with a reply.
“What bothers me is not finding any hint that these were nothing more than accidental or natural deaths,” she said, forcing herself into an official mode. “We both know if there had been, someone from the sheriff’s department would have followed up. Cops don’t like people getting killed for any reason.”
Cole’s eyes darkened. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? There’re too many people dead. People whose time hadn’t come. I’ll concede that not all of them are homicides, but I can’t believe all are natural, either.”
“Fine, let’s say there’s something hinky going on here.” Bree turned to face him, tucking one leg under her. She rested her elbow on the back of the couch, using her hand to emphasize her point. “For some incredibly crazy reason, someone has decided to kill people who happen to be over the age of sixty-five. Why? Are they all part of the Witness Security Program? Did they all have connections to some major crime underworld?”
“Hinky?”
“It means something very wrong.” She spat out the words.
“Mom.”
Bree looked over her shoulder. “Yes, Sara.”
The girl’s lip curled slightly upward. “Cody’s ready for bed.”
“I’ll be right there.” When Sara didn’t move, she added, “Thank you, Sara.”
Sara heaved a deep sigh and left with her head held high and her nose in the air.
“She’s looking for an Academy Award,” Bree murmured, rising to her feet. “I’ll be back as soon as I tuck in my son.”
“Would you bring your copies of the reports?”
“Yes.”
When Bree walked into Cody’s room, she found her son under the covers, propping up his favorite Dr. Seuss book on his tummy.
“So we’re going to read about Horton tonight?” Bree asked.
“Uh-huh.” He nodded, sliding over to give his mother room to perch on the side of his bed.
She took the book from him and began reading. The cadence of the story suited her mood tonight. But it didn’t keep her mind from wandering out to the family room and wondering what Cole was doing.
Looking at more family photographs? Inspecting their video and DVD collection?
When she finished the book, she closed it and put it aside. She adjusted the covers across Cody’s chest and leaned down to rub her nose against his and kiss him on the forehead.
“May the angels come down and be with you through the night. And may they sing sweet songs to you while you sleep. And may you have happy dreams.” She whispered the words she had said every night since his birth.
“I would sleep really good if we had a kitty,” he whispered back. “He could sleep with me.”
“We have David Boa,” she said by way of reminder.
Cody wrinkled his nose. “You can’t play with him. All he wants to do is sleep on David’s neck or eat mice. I could play with a kitty.”
Bree would have preferred not thinking about the mice. One of her ironclad rules was that David feed the snake himself and not expect anyone else to do it.
“I’ll think about it.” She used the time-honored excuse parents use.
His face fell. “Which means no.”
“Which means I’ll think about it,” she said, kissing him again on the forehead. She made sure the door was left open the requisite six inches when she left the room.
She made a stop in her own room to pick up the files. When she entered the family room, she found Cole where she’d left him. He was settled back against the couch with his legs stretched out in front of him.
“You’ve done an excellent job of ferreting out so much information, but you don’t list any suspects,” she said, placing the files on the coffee table. She dropped down onto the couch. “You must have come up with some idea who could be behind it.”
Cole had rested his head against the back of the couch. He turned it so he could see her. “Personally, I don’t think it’s one person,” he replied.
She nodded in agreement. “Someone within the department, a doctor, maybe even someone else. There’s money involved somewhere. There always is,” she murmured.
“Money for whom?” he mused. “I haven’t seen the surviving spouses come up with large financial benefits.”
“Don’t you find that interesting?” she commented. “All the people who died were married or lived with a close relative such as a brother or sister. The surviving relative gained insurance benefits—not large amounts, but something that should have allowed them to live quite comfortably. But have you seen that happen?”
Cole thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, nothing significant.” Then it hit him. “Which has to mean payoffs.”
Her lips curved. “Exactly.”
He couldn’t stop grinning. “Damn, we’re good. I knew you’d help me figure out some of those missing pieces. Care to tell me who the mastermind is?”
“The butler did it.”
Cole groaned at one of the most clichéd pronouncements known to man.
“Okay, I know when to stop.” He looked around the room, which held a baseball bat in one corner, a hockey stick in another. A bottle of mint-green nail polish sat on the coffee table.
At least they weren’t a tidy family.
He turned back to Bree. “I have to give it to you, Fitzpatrick,” he said. “You manage to have it all.”
She looked surprised by his change of subject. “If I had it all I’d still be back with the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department doing what I do best.”
Cole shifted around until he faced her. He rested his elbow on the back of the couch, his cheek braced against his palm.
“But then you wouldn’t have met me,” he murmured.
Bree smiled. “And that would have been a bad thing?”
“Sure it would.” His free hand reached out. His fingers grazed the side of her jaw. “The cases were the first reason why I contacted you. But after that day, they were secondary.”
“Secondary?” She felt a tiny shock in the area where he touched her. Her breath hitched in her throat. “Becker, you’re starting to travel in dangerous territory.”
His fingers danced along her jawline. “Danger is my middle name.”
She wrapped her fingers around his wrist with the intention of pulling his hand away from her face. Instead, they lingered. She sensed the warmth of his skin under her fingertips. The comforting sensation felt way too good.
“This is not a good idea,” she whispered.
His hand moved around the curve of her jaw and upward to cup her nape.
“You didn’t think going out with me was a good idea,” he told her.
“I haven’t gone out with you,” she reminded him.
“And you told me you’d go out with me when pigs flew.” His grin was unnerving. “Then lo and behold, a pig flew. One of those moments a man cherishes.” His face moved a bit closer.
Bree knew all the way down to the very marrow of her bones that he was going to kiss her. She wasn’t ready for this! She had enough on her plate without adding a man to the list. The last man to kiss her was Fitz. Could she allow another man to do so?
And if she was so concerned, why was she tipping her head to one side, closing her eyes slightly and parting her lips just a bit?
She felt his breath warm on her skin before she felt his mouth dancing lightly across hers. Then his lips pressed firmly. A streak of electricity seemed to make its way through her body, starting where his mouth touched hers.
It had been so long since a man kissed her this way. Kissed her as if he wanted her. Kissed her so that she felt desired. It felt much too good.
“Cole.” She pulled away before it got to feel so good that she’d be thinking about going a step further.
“Bree.” He smiled at her. He rubbed a str
ay strand of hair between his fingers before tucking it behind her ear. “I always did like redheads.”
“Redheads have nasty tempers.”
“Then we’ll just have to find a way to redirect all that negative energy.”
Bree opened her mouth, even though she had no idea what she was going to say. At that moment, a scream ripped through the house.
“Damn.” She shot off the couch and up the stairs, with Cole hard on her heels.
Cody sat up in bed, his face awash with tears as he cried so hard he was choking. Bree gathered him up in her arms as she sat down on the bed.
“Bad.” He choked out the word. “Bad, Mommy.”
“I’m here, sweetie,” she soothed, rocking him gently back and forth. “It’s okay, Cody. No one bad will get you. You know I won’t let that happen.”
“Big noise, lots of blood.” He hiccuped between the words. “Mommy!” he wailed.
Bree looked over her son’s head at Cole. I’m sorry, she mouthed.
“Will he be all right?” he asked softly.
“Does he look all right?” Sara demanded from behind him.
“Enough.” Bree kept her voice low, but the authority remained.
“I can see you have enough going on without having me in the way. I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for dinner.”
She nodded. “Thank you for understanding.”
Bree couldn’t release Cody’s stranglehold on her for almost ten minutes as he cried himself out.
“Would you feel better if Jinx slept in here?” she asked.
His eyes, the same startling emerald as her own, were blurred with his tears. Bree reached over to pluck a tissue out of the box by his bed so she could dry his face.
“He sleeps by your room,” he mumbled.
“I’ll have him stay in here with you tonight,” she told him. “He’ll sleep in the doorway and you know he’ll make sure no one will come in to make any more bad dreams for you. Would you like that?”
“Uh-huh.” His head bobbed up and down. “Can’t he sleep on the bed with me?” His lower lip trembled.
“Sweetie, you know that Jinx is a working dog, not a pet,” she said gently. “He’ll be nearby and he’ll protect you.”
Small-Town Secrets Page 10
