by Fiona Archer
“And you wanted to spare me, didn’t you?” She’d expect nothing less from the man who, along with his good friend Jackson, had defended her against bullies as a young boy. How many scrapes had he and Jackson gotten into on her behalf?
Caleb’s mouth lifted in a faint smile before it disappeared as his somber tone returned. “I wish I had something better to say, sweetheart. Jeb made a positive ID. The watch was engraved on the back. A birthday message to your dad.”
It was a gift, from her and her mom. They’d picked it out together.
The sheriff continued. “The wedding ring was Julie’s and also engraved.”
“I knew. As soon as you told me this morning.” She caught her breath. “I k–knew.” A puddle of tears blinded her. She blinked, letting them trail down her cheeks unchecked. “W-what happens now?”
“The body will be taken to Sheridan for examination and testing. We’ll need a DNA sample for comparison and official identification.”
“Okay.” She swiped at her face.
Mike brandished a fresh white handkerchief. “Here, sweetheart.”
“Thanks.” Blowing her nose afforded her a few seconds to steady herself. “Will they, um, take over the investigation?” Tears lent a sogginess to her voice.
“No. I’ve spoken to the coroner based in Sheridan. We’ll head up things from here and use their expertise as needed.” Caleb’s face hardened with a determined focus that reassured her far more than any empty promise of closure from a nameless official.
Some bastard out there hurt her mom, murdered her. Julie Edwards deserved justice.
“You have questions.” You can get through this. “I’ll tell you everything I can, but I was only twelve, Caleb. We’re talking twenty years ago.”
Mike squeezed her knee. “Just do your best. That’s all anyone is asking.”
Chloe sat on the edge of her chair. “Reagan, do you want some privacy? I mean, I’d like to stay and support you, but if you’d prefer…”
“No, I want you here.”
Her friend nodded and then sat back in her chair. Noah stretched out and clasped Chloe’s hand.
Caleb reached into his front shirt pocket and drew out a small pad and pen. “I’ll need to familiarize myself with the original case notes on your mom’s disappearance, but in the meantime, I have a couple of quick questions to get us started.”
She reached for her coffee. Caffeine sounded good right about now.
The sheriff held his pen poised over his notepad. “I remember your mom disappeared on Saturday, the day after the spring dance. That right, honey?”
Her finger traced the rim of her mug. “Yes, it was. Mom had made me a new dress for the dance.” With cornflower-blue ribbon laced through the eyelets on the hem of her sleeves. She’d never worn it again. “Duncan King had promised me a pony ride on the Saturday.” Noah’s great uncle had always had a soft spot for her.
“Mom had to get groceries, so Dad drove me to King’s Haven. I waved good-bye to Dad. Went riding with Duncan for about, um, two hours, and then Dad picked me up. We headed home, but Mom wasn’t there.” When they’d arrived, an eerie quietness had shrouded the house. “I went looking for her.” Ducking from one room to another. Mom? Mom? Her pulse quickening. Something seemed…off. “I headed to their bedroom.” The wardrobe door was hanging open. “Her clothes were gone.”
Quinn’s voice was close to her ear. “What happened next?”
“Dad came in.” Blank confusion had spread out over his face, soon replaced by the slowly dawning horror that something was definitely wrong. “He walked over to the wardrobe and just stood there, staring.” She tugged on his hand, yelling for him to do something. Where is she? Where’s Mom? “Dad ran to the phone, called friends, but nobody had seen her. Uncle Jeb and Aunt Gretchen came over. They stayed with us when the sheriff turned up. Later, Purdy’s mom came and got me. They made it sound like a big deal, having a sleepover. I didn’t want to go. Dad told me he couldn’t look for Mom and…” She broke off, smothered a sob. “Leave m-me home a-alone.” Her father had crouched in front of her, holding onto her shoulders. His features were haggard, desperation carved in the lines of his face. I need you safe, honey, with Purdy. Just tonight. I promise, I’ll bring your mom home. But he hadn’t. Three nights she’d stayed at Purdy’s house. On the fourth, her father had walked up to the Daniels’s front porch, his shoulders slumped, a defeated man.
Then the talk had started. The juicy banquet of her mother’s past exploits, real and imagined, was devoured by a select number of the town. Sam Edwards and those loyal to her family had tried valiantly to shield her. But when a viper wants to strike, they’ll keep at it until they succeed. For her, it had been the small things. Mother’s Day. Her birthday. The times when a little girl coping with the grief of her mother’s disappearance would be most vulnerable. The daughters of the men who’d flirted with her mother turned vicious in the school yard. What did your mom get you for your birthday? A train ticket to nowhere?
The kid in her had hated her mother for putting her in this position. If Julie hadn’t left, none of the bullying would have happened.
Except she’d been wrong. All that anger was unfounded. Julie hadn’t left. She blinked and sunk deeper into the couch. She had so many memories to rejig and adjust to.
“Reagan?” Quinn gave her a tiny shake.
She snapped her head up. Concern had tightened Quinn’s jaw into a hard line. “I’m sorry. I was…remembering.” Another sip of coffee. “I need to call Purdy. Talking about the Daniels reminded me.”
Chloe leaned forward. “I left a message on her cell phone before I came back in. And as for the meeting we’ve scheduled for this afternoon with the election volunteers…” She shrugged. “Why don’t we see how you feel a bit later?”
Heck, the planning meeting. It had floated right out of her mind. She closed her eyes for a second before sharing a tired smile with Chloe. “Thank you.”
“Your dad, he wasn’t riding at King’s Haven with you?” Noah asked
“No, he’d had to go out. He had a job booked at the Brewster’s farm.” She nodded to herself as the memory came back. “Dad was a carpenter. They needed some kind of repair. But he ended up running late to get me, something to do with his truck.”
Then she saw it, that look between Caleb and Quinn right about the time Mike stiffened next to her, not noticeably, but discernible enough when her body was meshed up close.
“What?” She turned to study all four of the men in the room. Each one of them wore that trademark blank expression of guys who were trained to never give away their thoughts or emotions.
Caleb worked his jaw, seeming to take extra care in phrasing his next question. “Did your dad ever tell you if his watch was missing?”
“He told me later that Mom was going to take it in for repair. I always thought”—she broke off, dipped her gaze to her hands clenched in her lap—“that she had taken it with her, as a reminder…of u–us.” Her voice caught on the last word. “Maybe that was part of the reason he was late? He didn’t have his watch to keep track of time?”
“Could be.” Something in Quinn’s tone, a hint of caution perhaps, made her look up into his face.
She’d been too young all those years ago to fight for her mom’s reputation. Her father wouldn’t suffer the same fate.
“Dad had nothing to do with this.” She clenched her jaw. “Nothing.”
Mike shrugged. “We’re not saying—”
“Good. Because that’s bullshit.” She twisted on the couch, facing Mike side on. “I’ve lived through this once already. I know the gossip.” The jibes aimed so they cut just under the skin, needling, over and again. Her eyes burned. Do. Not. Cry.
The ex-sniper’s voice hardened. “Reagan, there’s a difference between gossip and seeking the truth. Caleb and others are going to ask questions. Some you’ll dislike and others you’ll outright hate. However, that doesn’t mean the people asking them have it in
Yes, the truth needed to be found and dragged out into the open. Her dad had nothing to hide. She’d stake her life on that fact. If the investigative hordes were about to descend on her family, why not have someone working on her side?
“I agree. The truth is top priority.” She studied Mike. The black T-shirt stretched over the sculptured muscles of his battle-hardened upper body. But it was the sureness of his gaze that reminded her that this warrior would stop at nothing to achieve his goal. He’d be a formidable foe on any battlefield. And Quinn?
She turned to face him. The barest hint of darkness shaded his tanned head. A shiver stole over her skin at the silent challenge in his eyes. This was a man who didn’t back down, who would seek out proof no matter how hard or whose reluctant toes were stomped on in the process.
That’s what she needed. Two fighters. Skilled to hunt for the facts. But what if they found— no. Her father was innocent. She couldn’t, wouldn’t contemplate any other scenario. “So find it for me. Prove my dad’s innocence.”
* * * *
Fuck.
Quinn’s gut cramped as Reagan stared up at him, her face pinched tight in expectation, eyes shiny from unshed tears. Tears. They’d drive a man to his knees.
Prove her dad’s innocence? Here was a guy with time unaccounted for on the morning of his wife’s supposed murder. Whose watch was found with its face smashed and buckle broken under said wife’s body as it lay buried in a secluded place on his land.
Quinn glanced behind her to Mike. His buddy’s hands were wrapped over her shoulders, fingers kneading the bunched muscles underneath her sweater. Mike nodded ever so slightly, letting Quinn know this would be his call. They worked as a team, but on investigations, Mike deferred to Quinn’s expertise. “You want to hire us to prove your dad had nothing to do with your mother’s death?”
“Correct.” She nodded, sending the brown strands of her hair to fall over her shoulders. Not one hour ago, he’d played with those same tresses, running them through his fingers, marveling at their softness. “You’re some top-notch investigators, right?”
Something they tended to keep quiet. Chloe, nodding like one of those bobbleheads, confirmed the identity of the leak.
“We do assignments for high-end clients.” Ultra exclusive. With a price tag to match.
She licked her lips. “I can afford your rate.”
Like hell. It didn’t matter. They’d never charge her a fee. “We deal with evidence, facts. Wishing your dad innocent doesn’t make it a reality.” How many times had he and Mike run up against that scenario? My son didn’t embezzle from me, but the board’s directors need the assurance. My husband signed a prenup. Why would he try to kill me?
“Just search for the truth, Quinn. That’s all I ask.” The trust in her eyes humbled him.
Jesus, he didn’t want to be the bastard who destroyed such faith.
“Reagan…” Caleb’s brows bunched together. “They don’t have any official powers. And I won’t compromise my investigation.”
It was a fair point. The sheriff didn’t back down. Quinn had been lucky earlier to receive access to the scene. Of course, that had allowed Caleb the chance to grill him about his and Mike’s plans for Reagan. Apparently their balls would be decorating a certain wall of Caleb’s study if they ever bruised her tender feelings. And damn, if that threat hadn’t warmed the cockles of Quinn’s jaded heart. So far a doctor, a sheriff, and two lethal Aussie ranchers had appointed themselves Reagan’s guardians. With the shit about to fly after this morning’s discovery, that was a crowd he and Mike were happy to have surrounding their sub. Yeah, that’s right. Theirs.
Reagan lifted her chin. “Caleb, I have no intention of asking for special favors. In fact, the opposite. Do whatever is needed to get the job done.” She wiped her hands on her jeans. “I want Mike and Quinn to clear my dad’s name.”
Noah shook his head, the big Aussie sitting forward in his chair. “Luv, nobody’s stated his guilt.”
Her laugher was dry and brittle. “But they will. Oh, it starts out small. One or two in the beginning. Soon, you have a quorum of doubt. Believe me.”
Wagner would lead the pack. How long before the fucker spread his version of the truth around town? And the election? Christ, the discovery of the body was voter gold dust for the bastard. The little librarian was gonna cop it from all sides. Fuck. Would he and Mike make it better with their search? Or bury her under the weight of their findings?
He drew his hand into a fist, digging his knuckles into the side of his thigh. Sometimes doing the right thing hurt. If only he’d known that before, all those years ago, when it could have made a difference. He’d been only twelve years old as he’d crept to his bedroom window. Dreams of intergalactic battles had kept him awake. He’d heard a muffled curse from the front yard. Bobby Hagarty’s pickup stood in the driveway. Sherri sat up front. In the dim light, he could see pushing and shoving. A car door banged and he’d met Sherri in the hallway minutes later. She’d dragged him back into his room. The smell of their mom’s White Diamonds perfume hung heavy in the summer night. What did he do, Sherri? I saw him shove you. I’m telling Dad. Instead, he’d given in to her pleading. All boys push for more on the second date. He’s the quarterback. Don’t wreck this for me, Quinn. She’d hugged him close. He’s a good guy, really. I promise. It’s all gonna be okay.
But it hadn’t turned out okay. It had been a fucking nightmare, the scars of which burned deep into Quinn.
Hiding the truth to spare Sherri’s feelings proved to be the worst mistake of his life, one he’d never make again.
He raised his hand and cupped Reagan’s cheek. The slight tremble of her chin sent him hard. His Dom instincts revved harder than an Indy 500 engine. He wanted to hold her, protect her from all harm. Instead, he might be the man to destroy her idol.
His sigh echoed between them. “We’ll take the job, Reagan. But I warn you, whatever we find, we’ll pass on to Caleb. Good or bad.”
“You won’t find anything bad, Quinn. I know my dad. He was a good guy.”
He’d heard that before.
* * * *
Reagan hung on to the open front door. Weariness weighed down her limbs, covering her like a lead cloak. After this morning’s shattering news, she’d decided against holding a full meeting of her election committee, instead keeping it to just her, Chloe, and Purdy. Making up plans with her friends allowed her to sink into the couch and give her mind a respite from the jumbled emotions surrounding her mom, but still allowed her those teary moments best shared with close confidants.
Chloe and Purdy had, as she’d guessed, understood perfectly. Between passing her tissues and endless cups of tea, they’d managed to make her laugh a couple of times and gain some headway into the necessary plans for her campaign.
After hugs and assurances to call if she needed anything, Chloe had left not five minutes ago.
“So we’ve lined up two coffee mornings, an interview in the local paper, and a Q&A evening at the diner. That’s a great start. Since Wagner’s still considering your challenge of a debate, I think we should sit tight.” Purdy dug out her car keys from her ruby-painted leather bag. She studied Reagan. Understanding reflected in the softness of her gaze. “Remember, I’m a phone call away. You need anything and I’m here.”
Reagan forced herself to adapt a breezy air. “I promise.”
Her friend rolled her eyes. “You’re a lousy liar.” She gathered Reagan in a bear hug. The familiar scent of Purdy’s rose perfume oil comforted Reagan far more than she’d ever imagined possible. In a day where her long-held assumptions of her mom had been shoved aside, she needed every point of reference she could find.
Twenty years earlier, on those first few nights after Julie Edwards’s disappearance, Purdy had shared her bedroom with Reagan. She was the girl who’d crept into Reagan’s bed and cuddled her when Reagan’s tears wouldn’t stop and promised her that no matter what, she’d always be Reagan’s friend.
And she’d kept her promise.
After one last hearty squeeze, Purdy lowered her arms. “I suppose those two in the kitchen will make sure you eat tonight.”
“Count on it.” Quinn’s voice came from the kitchen doorway, his crocodile grin in full force as Mike stepped from behind him. “If she gives us trouble, we have our own methods of persuasion.”
“I have no doubt,” Purdy muttered, winking at Reagan.
Mike shrugged. “It’s all part of our charm.” The no-nonsense Dom led the way as the men ambled down the hall toward them. His gaze narrowed as he glanced out into the late afternoon. “You okay to drive home in this rain? It’s coming down hard.”
He was protective right down to his core.
Purdy might have sighed but the soft curve of her lips showed her appreciation. “I treated myself to new tires at Easter. And I’m heading straight home. No more than five minutes.”
Quinn dropped an arm around Reagan’s shoulders, his fingers brushing against her navy sweater, each sweep sending tingles over her chest.
“Call Reagan to let us know you got home safe.” Quinn’s tone made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion.
“Fine.” The curly-topped blonde chuckled and with a wave, ran out to her yellow VW.
“Little brat. Caleb’s gonna have his hands full with that one,” Quinn warned.
If he gets the chance. But Caleb and Purdy’s history wasn’t her story to tell. Stupid, stubborn people.
“What’s for dinner?” She waited for Purdy’s car lights to turn on, then pushed the door closed. Quinn steered her down to the kitchen.
Mike’s voice came from behind. “Beef stew. We started the Crock-Pot around lunchtime. Biscuits are in the oven.”
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