He was patient.
Then again, he’d always been.
Ty was what his folks had called an old soul. Genius intellect. Patient and calm.
He knew Dean was in there and he’d just wait at the door, for an hour, if that was what it took.
When Dean opened the door, Ty had his head averted, staring off into the night.
“Ty.”
His younger brother swung his head around and looked first at him, then his gaze shifted to Jensen.
He didn’t look at all surprised to see her there, didn’t look at all surprised to see her wearing clothes that obviously belonged to Dean. He just nodded, and although he hid it well, Dean saw the sorrow in his brother’s gaze.
This was going to be bad.
* * *
“It’s going to be hard to make a conclusive case here. I hope you understand that,” Ty said, his voice low and gentle, like he was talking to a wild animal.
Or a woman who’d spent half her life searching for what she’d lost.
Jensen lifted her eyes and stared at the other man.
He and Dean shared the same eyes, she thought. The shape of the mouth was the same, the shape of their hands.
Both had a way of acting, carrying themselves that set people at ease. And they were both smarter than people really had a right to be.
The resemblance ended there, though. Where Dean was all sleek and lean elegance, Ty was massive, tall and broad through the shoulders. There was no extra flesh on him that she could tell, but his hands were huge, his shoulders strained against the cloth of the shirt he wore. She had a hard time picturing him in some sterile lab.
Had a hard time picturing him gentling her through the explanation he had trapped inside him.
She had a hard time being gentled, anyway.
“Would you just get it over with, Ty?” she said, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. “Whatever it is … I just need to know.”
His lashes swept down, ridiculously long lashes, thick and curled. He blew out a careful breath and lifted his hands, steepling them in front of his face for a moment and then he nodded.
He pulled a file out of the bag he carried and opened it. “I’ve got a preliminary report for you, Dean. If you decide you want me to consult, just let me know and I’ll get a full report put together. But for now…” He flipped the report over and revealed the pictures.
They’d been enlarged and he pulled a laser pointer from his bag.
Her mouth went dry.
She was looking at a femur.
It was just a femur. A subject. Unidentified—
Mom—
“There’s damage to the femur. A fracture. Some fragments are missing.”
She nodded and watched as he placed another image in front of her. “This is part of the pelvis. They may find more of it as they finish going through the car, but again, as you can see…” Ty said, his voice slow and easy. “There’s considerable damage, and it’s not damage we’d see from being submerged in water.”
“It looks fractured. Could she have been hit by a car?” Jensen asked. Her voice sounded so calm. So level.
Ty blew out a breath. “I don’t think that’s the case. There’s the injury to her skull.”
He pulled out the next set of pictures. “I’d be able to give a better report if I could actually examine her myself.” He placed each image in front of them and then folded his hands. “These are crush injuries, Jensen.”
She slowly lifted her eyes. “Crush injuries.”
“I know it’s been a long, long time … but do you remember if there were any big dogs in the area, Jensen?” Ty asked, watching her. “It would have to be a dog of substantial size, but—”
Dean barely caught her as she bolted off the couch.
* * *
“That man is going to drive that dog to kill somebody, Doug.”
Jensen sat at the table, doing her homework and watching as her mother slammed the phone down.
“We just need to make sure you all stay away,” Dad said, scrubbing the grease from his hands. “The fence is high and he keeps him chained.”
“I’m not so worried about us,” Mom said, snapping. “We raised the kids not to mess with strange dogs and they know not to go messing around the Miller house. Guy is welcome here, anytime he wants to be here and he knows that. But that damn dog…”
Jensen looked up.
Mom caught her glance and smiled. “You pay attention to your homework, toots. I’m just irritated.”
“He beats his dog,” she said, not looking back down at the paper. Scowling, she shifted in her chair as something hot and angry moved through her. “He doesn’t just beat him, either. He makes him fight. I saw…”
“You saw what, baby?”
She flicked her parents a glance and then looked away.
“I think I saw Mr. Miller take another dog in there once. Through the gate. It was that old gray stray that we used to feed sometimes.”
Doug blew out a breath and turned away from the sink, reaching for a towel to dry his hands. “When was this, Jensen?”
“A couple months ago.” She bent her head over the table, feeling a little sick inside. “I … I meant to say something. But he saw me. The way he looked at me scared me. I was spending the night at Trina’s house and I guess I didn’t want to think about it, then I forgot.”
Mom put her Coke down and came to settle in the seat next to her. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” She sighed and reached out to brush Jensen’s hair back, but Jensen jerked back.
Hadn’t she?
What had happened to that old dog?
Because it was easier to be mad at something else, anybody else, she just glared at her mom. “Why doesn’t anybody stop him? Don’t people care?”
“I care.” Mom sighed and reached up to brush Jensen’s hair back but Jensen scowled and pulled her head back. She wasn’t a little baby like Chrissie. “Baby, it’s not the first we’ve heard rumors about something like this. Maybe this will be enough to get the cops out there, though. I’ve called before, but without evidence…” Her mouth twisted and her eyes were angry. “They need evidence. Unless somebody actually catches him…”
“Nobody wants to get close enough to catch him. Butcher is scary.”
Mom smiled sadly. “I don’t think the dog is really to blame. That monster starves him, beats him. But yeah. Butcher is scary. So you do what you’re told. Stay away. I feel bad for the dog and I’ll keep trying to get help out there, but I don’t want him hurting you. Becky Henry thinks he got ahold of her cat. If he’d hurt another animal, he might hurt a child, too. We’re not taking the chance. If you saw him take another dog in there, maybe that will be enough this time.”
Jensen gripped her pencil so tightly her fingers went bloodless.
“What would happen if the dog got out, Mama?”
* * *
Bent over the toilet, Jensen gripped the edges, waiting for the shaking to pass.
She’d emptied everything in her stomach.
The stink of vomit filled the air and it wasn’t making it any easier to breathe, either.
“Here.”
Looking up, she saw a cold washcloth dangling near her head.
She could barely move to grab it. “Water?”
She nodded and took the bottle, rinsed her mouth out. Flushing the toilet, she went to ease back from the commode, but her arms and legs didn’t want to work.
Dean, under the pretense of settling down next to her, shifted her away. She swiped the rag over her face, her fingers trembling.
“There was a dog, wasn’t there?” he asked.
“Yes.” Dully, she stared at the pretty, brick-red walls, the soft golden globes of the lights. “There was a dog.”
He curled an arm around her shoulders and tucked her closer. Resting his chin on her head, he held her as she slid her arms around him and clung tight. “I’m sorry, Jensen.”
Chapter Nine
The man in front of her was a friend.
Jensen tried to tell herself that as she led Dean into his office.
Guy Miller was a friend.
His father was a fucking scumbag, but Guy wasn’t to blame for that.
You sure you want to handle it this way? Dean had asked her on the way into the sheriff’s department early the next morning.
It wasn’t exactly procedure.
She knew that.
She couldn’t be involved in the case that would have to be built. She couldn’t be.
But she knew Guy. He was a decent man, a good cop.
There was no way in hell he knew anything about her mom’s death. He’d spent too many nights going over the case with her. Going over reports for her brother.
And lending Chrissie a shoulder.
He thought people hadn’t noticed, and when they said stuff, he just brushed it all off as being a friend. Jensen knew better.
Guy was shitfaced in love with Chrissie and this was going to make all of this even harder on him.
No. He didn’t know anything about their mom’s death.
But yeah, there had been a dog. A mean, big-ass dog by the name of Butcher. Then one night, sometime during the summer her mother had gone missing, Butcher just wasn’t there anymore.
Theo claimed the dog had gotten loose and run away a few nights before her mother had disappeared. There was even a hole in the fence and a broken chain to prove it.
Guy looked up, his black hair cut short, his gray eyes tired. Signs of a sleepless night showed on his face as he gave her a distracted smile. “Hey, Jensen. How are you holding—” Then he frowned, his attention shifting to Dean, then the taller man at their back. “Well. We’ll discuss that later. What can I do for you?”
* * *
Guy knew the second she introduced the quiet, big man at her back that there was a problem. He knew the name. Dean’s brother had made quite a name for himself down in Lexington.
Young, brilliant, had a thing for bones.
This was one of those times where he could almost thank the evil son of a bitch who’d fathered him, because he’d learned at a young age that he had to hide everything he thought, everything he felt.
Leaning back in his chair, he kept his hands flat on the arms, watching Jensen. She had her cop face on. He knew that face. But she couldn’t quite mask the look in her eyes. Not quite. “So what’s going on, Jensen?”
She opened her mouth, but seconds ticked away and finally, she just looked at Dean.
He glanced at his brother and Dr. Tyrese West stepped forward, placed a folder on Guy’s desk. “Dean asked me to take a look at the bones that were discovered in the trunk of the car,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “Unofficially, of course. If the sheriff’s office would like me to consult, I’m happy to do so, but this was just a favor. The Bell family has waited long enough to find answers.”
Guy reached out and flipped open the folder, staring at the pictures. A long bone—broken. A femur, he thought and then noted the neat little notes on the sheet of paper the image was clipped to. Yes, a femur. Damage consistent with a crush injury—
His gut knotted. Crush injuries. He’d heard that term before.
Slowly, he looked. “Did you?”
“Find answers?” Tyrese held his gaze. “I think all I have now are more questions.”
“Why don’t you ask me those questions?”
But Guy had a bad feeling he already knew at least one of them.
Crush injury—
Tyrese glanced at his brother and then looked back at Guy. The man’s eyes were big, dark and so sad.
It was like he somehow already knew something awful. Something Guy didn’t even want to think about.
* * *
“Thanks.” Guy nodded as the guard left him alone with his father. They weren’t really alone—nobody left a prisoner unsecured in a jail, even when the man’s son was a deputy sheriff. Maybe even especially when the man’s son was a deputy sheriff.
Theo Miller wasn’t an ugly man, even now.
He was a cruel one, though, and that showed … in his eyes, in the way he looked at the world, in the way he carried himself.
He settled at the table and leaned back, rested his cuffed hands on the table and gave his only child an insolent smile.
His eyes were his father’s eyes, Guy knew. That smile? The arrogant curve of his lips, the stubble that was even now darkening Theo’s jaw, that was his, too.
He looked so much liked that arrogant, evil bastard.
“I had a visit today,” he said softly, keeping his distance.
If he moved any closer, he might forget who he was. Who he’d fought so hard to become. He might become the man sitting across the room—the man Guy hated with every fiber of his being.
“Yeah?” Theo looked around. “You bring me any cigarettes?”
“You shouldn’t smoke. It will shorten your life.” He kept his arms folded across his chest. His hands ached.. He wanted to lunge across the room and grab the son of a bitch. Because he knew. He already knew.
“Shorten my life? You worrying about me there, boy?”
“I’d hate for you to die before you can go to court.”
Something flickered in Theo’s eyes. “Court?” A sly twist of his lips. “What … am I getting a new trial about that fucking break-in? Innocent, I told you that, boy.”
“Not the break-in,” he said softly. He let himself move a little closer, because he had to see it, had to be able to see the man’s eyes. “Theo, you remember fifteen years ago when you told a bunch of people that Butcher ran away?”
There was the answer. It was minute, just a slight tightening around Theo’s eyes, gone so fast that Guy would have missed it if he hadn’t been waiting for it.
“Butcher…” He squinted and then nodded. “Oh, yeah. That mean old dog of yours.”
“Not my dog, Dad.” He rubbed a thumb down his jaw. “You remember how that lady, Nichole, used to give you so much hell about Butcher?”
Theo’s eyes, hard as ice and just as cold, bored into his.
“They found her, Dad.”
“What the fuck do I care?”
Guy reached down and untucked his shirt, unbuttoned it. As he revealed the scars on his belly, he said nothing. His father’s breath started to come raggedly. “I remember, Dad. I remember where you had me bury him. They’re already digging him up. The question is … will it be considered murder? Or manslaughter?”
“You son of a bitch!”
Theo lunged for him but the leg shackles didn’t give him much room. Guards came rushing into the room.
“You fucking son of a cunt!” Theo roared. “You keep your mouth shut. You’ll burn if I do. I’ll tell them all you knew. That you helped.”
Guy turned away, his gut rolling. His hands were steady, though, as he buttoned up his shirt, hiding the scars very few people had ever seen.
Guilt, shock, and disbelief were a nasty mix inside him.
“I came here hoping I was wrong somehow, you know,” he murmured, stopping in the doorway to look back. “You have no idea how badly I needed to be wrong about this.”
In his mind’s eye, he saw a woman. That wicked, sly grin. Those wide, sad eyes.
He loved her … so much.
She’d never been more out of reach than she was at that very moment.
Chapter Ten
“Hi, Mom.”
Jensen knelt at the headstone and brushed away a few of the silken yellow roses that had fallen from the most recent arrangement. Chrissie’s handiwork, she had no doubt.
A gentle breeze blew through the graveyard and she brushed her hair back. “Every time I feel a breeze like that when I’m here, I try to tell myself it’s you. Talking to me.”
A knot swelled in her chest. It was going to choke her. End her. Sucking in a breath, she pressed her fisted hand to her forehead and tried to level out.
It was done.
Not complete
ly, she knew that, but she had the answers. After all this time.
Hearing the faintest whisper of sound, she tensed and slid a quick look behind her.
The sight of Dean crossing the ground to her had her heart skipping a few beats. He was still wearing the suit, all sexy and sleek in a charcoal suit that probably cost a mint. But he’d loosened the tie, pulled out the cord he used to keep his dreads back from his face. And he looked tired as he came to a stop beside her.
“Want some company?” he asked softly.
She shrugged and looked back at her mother’s headstone. “Sure. Have a seat.” Then she scowled and looked at his suit. “Then again, you might not want to sit in that.”
He blew out a breath. “After the day I’ve had, all I want to do is sit.”
“All?”
A faint grin tugged at his lips. “Maybe not all.” He slid a hand up her back, cupped her nape. “You weren’t at the station today.”
“No. I spent it with my family.” She plucked a blade of grass and rubbed it between her fingers. “The chief knew I needed the day. So I took it.”
“Understandable. How are they?”
“Confused. Mad at me. They want answers I can’t give them right now, but…”
Dean caught her hand. “You’ll have some soon, I think. Guy … have you talked to him?”
At the sound of Guy’s name, she flinched.
“No. I … no. Shit.” Clambering to her feet, she wrapped her arms around herself and stared off into the distance. “Have you learned anything?”
Dean’s arms came around her and although a huge part of her wanted to pull away, it felt so very right to lean against him. Was it wrong? What was so wrong about this? Taking comfort in the arms of the man she … her stomach dropped out.
Oh, hell.
Swallowing, she turned around but instead of looking up at him and risk having him see what she’d just figured out, she pressed her face into his chest and breathed in the warm, subtle scent that was him, and him alone. “What did you learn today?” she asked.
“Guy didn’t know anything. Not then. The pieces fell together for him when we went to see him.” He rubbed his cheek against hers, a soft, reassuring touch that made her heart roll over. “Look at me.”
She eased back, her breathing slow, steady.
Break for Me Page 8
