by Ranae Rose
A sharp black uniform with a gun on one hip, and cuffs on the other.
Another rebellious ripple of sensation crept down her spine. Whether or not he was someone’s father, he was gorgeous. It couldn’t hurt to look.
She glanced at the kitchen window, which afforded a perfect view of his garage. Maybe she’d glimpse him later, when he returned from his shift. Maybe she’d even have a chance to say hello.
They were neighbors, after all – they’d have to meet eventually.
The thought made the last bite of her dessert taste extra sweet. Wrapping her hands around the warm sides of her coffee cup, she blew away a wisp of steam and carried it across the kitchen, to her living room.
A box of books sat on the floor in front of her empty bookshelf, but the sofa and TV were where she meant to keep them. Settling down, she flipped the TV on, ready to enjoy a lazy Saturday morning in her new home.
There was no telling when she’d get another chance to take it easy on a Saturday. She’d taken Friday and Saturday off work in order to handle her move and had every intention of unpacking, but not until she was done with her coffee.
Without cable set up yet, there were only a few channels to choose from. She settled on the local news.
A blonde anchor in a pencil skirt and silk shell top was reporting live from a park in Cypress. Lucia had driven by it multiple times before, mentally noting the cute walking trail lined with flowering bushes and old oaks draped with Spanish moss.
It’d looked like a nice place to go for a walk, or eat lunch. There’d been parents there, relaxing on benches as their kids enjoyed the playground equipment. It certainly hadn’t looked like a place where someone might be murdered.
Apparently, appearances could be deceiving.
CHAPTER 2
A twenty year old woman had been found dead under a hydrangea bush in Walters Park that morning. The fact festered in the back of Jeremy’s mind as his cruiser’s MDT chimed.
He hit dispatch, and info appeared on the screen. A domestic disturbance call on the outskirts of the county. He hit en route and turned the car around.
Officer Richardson rode beside him.
He was field training the twenty-three year old recruit, who’d completed the academy just weeks ago.
Instead of the call they were currently heading to, they talked about the girl who’d been murdered.
“No robbery, no sexual assault,” Richardson said. “You think it was personal?”
The young woman had been found face-down, her purse beneath her, the strap tangled around one arm. Her wallet had been inside, ID and credit cards intact. She’d been bludgeoned and strangled, but not violated sexually.
Jeremy wasn’t a detective. Still, there were only two obvious possibilities: a personal attack, or a random crime. “Probably. Probably a relationship gone bad.”
It was either that, or someone had killed her for a thrill, to fuel some sick obsession. It was far less likely than her falling awry of an old boyfriend, and not a possibility he particularly wanted to dwell on.
Riley County had seen enough violence over the past year – the last thing it needed was a serial killer.
God knew that after last summer, people were probably already jumping to that possibility.
“Probably,” Richardson agreed. “You see a picture of her?”
“No.”
“She was pretty. I’d bet a paycheck it was a jealous boyfriend.”
“I’m sure that’s exactly who they’ll start the investigation with.”
He didn’t relish talking about the dead woman. Twenty was too close to girlhood, and he had a little girl of his own. He knew the world could be an ugly place, but he didn’t want to think about that ugliness touching Paige. Ever.
The thought of her dating made him break into a sweat. She was twelve – how many years did he have left before he had to confront that horrifying reality?
The radio crackled as they approached an aging clapboard house, the drive lined with mismatched shrubs and a lone pine.
He was conscious of the weight of his Glock on his hip, a weight that was always with him, reminding him that the worst-case scenario was always possible.
The call was over an argument. Supposedly it hadn’t turned violent yet.
But it might.
Things could always get worse. It was his job to realize that, to anticipate it. To see the worst in everyone, and protect them – from others and themselves – anyway.
* * * * *
Lucia piled a deconstructed moving box on top of a stack already a dozen high. She’d gotten her bedroom, the bathroom and kitchen completely situated and was halfway done filling the living room bookcase with dozens of novels: mostly mysteries, with a few romances here and there. Not bad for a weekend’s work.
Her new house was starting to look like a home. It was a modest two-bedroom Cape Cod, but it was much roomier than her apartment in Wilmington had been. She could already tell she’d be comfortable here.
Not to mention closer to work. The move had been a good decision all around. And of course, there was the neighborhood.
She’d never had such friendly neighbors. Thinking of Meredith and Paige, she smiled. Unable to resist, she’d eaten half the lemon bars over the past two days. Now, it was Sunday evening and she’d placed the rest in the fridge, layered in one of her freshly-unpacked plastic containers.
Meredith’s tray was freshly washed and dried, lying on the counter, ready to be returned.
Lucia glanced out the window. Dusk had barely begun to darken the sky, and the worst of the day’s heat had faded. It was beautiful outside – her favorite time of day. She might as well take a short walk across the street to Meredith’s house and return the plate.
Outside, the air was warm and sultry. She crossed the street with the tray tucked under her arm, reaching the opposite sidewalk just as a blue sedan passed with a rush of humid air. When the vehicle was gone, the only sounds were a lone cricket’s singing and a dog barking somewhere down the block.
Meredith’s house was nearly cattycorner from Lucia’s, across the street and a couple lots down. With its pale yellow siding, white-columned front porch and overflowing flower boxes, it was adorable.
She climbed the short flight of stairs, crossed the porch and knocked on a wreathed front door.
No answer, although the kitchen light glowed softly behind white curtains.
She glanced toward the garage. The door was closed.
Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she waited, listening for the sound of footsteps as seconds ticked by.
All was quiet, save for the cricket and dog.
Turning, she descended the stairs. She’d just have to return the plate later. Either that, or drop it off at Meredith’s son’s house.
Sandals slapping against the sidewalk, she glanced at the little white house as she approached. The yard and home were neatly maintained, but there were no flower boxes overflowing with riotous blooms, no wreath on the door. The home was simply neat – practical. Unadorned. The house of a single man.
The windows glowed faintly against the early evening, and a slim shadow passed by one of the windows. Paige?
Someone was obviously home. Maybe Meredith was even there, visiting her son and granddaughter.
Sucking in a quick breath of humid air, Lucia turned for the house and climbed the stairs, rapping on the door when she reached it.
Someone was home, all right, and not just Paige. Her father answered, filling up most of the doorway with his tall, broad frame of lean muscle.
She sucked in another breath and resisted the urge to fan herself with the plate tucked under her arm. He wore jeans and a plain white t-shirt instead of his uniform, but he was still strikingly handsome – even more so up close than she’d realized from across the street.
His eyes were the clear blue of a Carolina summer sky, and they stood out bold against golden-tan skin. His dark, cropped hair made them stand out even
more.
“Hi,” she said, allowing a genuine smile to cross her lips. “I’m Lucia Ramirez, your new neighbor.”
She tipped her head toward her house, doing her best to ignore the way her pulse had quickened for no reason.
No reason at all, besides the fact that she was standing just two feet from a man who looked like he belonged splashed across the cover of the Sexiest Man Alive edition of People Magazine.
When he spoke, though, his pure Carolina accent banished thoughts of Hollywood.
“Nice to meet you, Lucia,” he said with a nod. “Paige told me she met you yesterday.”
A ghost of a smile curled his lips, and she zeroed in on the change, unable to focus on anything else. God, the world’s hottest five o’clock shadow surrounded that mouth.
She had to force herself to nod. “She and Meredith brought me the most amazing lemon bars. I’m seriously jealous of you getting to claim her as your mother.”
The hot cop’s smile widened. “Having her as a neighbor is the next best thing. Those won’t be the last desserts she brings over, I can promise you that.”
“Oh.” Lucia gripped the edge of the tray hard as the urge to fan herself with it became overwhelming. “Fantastic.”
“I’m Jeremy Connor,” he said, extending a hand.
She raised her free hand, desperately hoping he’d mistake the sweat on her palm for mere humidity.
“It’s great to meet you.” Great, and totally disarming. She stood there like an idiot, noticing the faint callouses on his hand … and the lack of a ring.
How the hell was this guy single? Between his looks, his adorable daughter and his baking angel of a mother, he seemed like the sort of guy women would fight gladiator-style over.
“You too,” he said, nodding toward her home. “The last person who lived in that house was a sixty year old man with a penchant for mowing his lawn in a pair of seventies-style track shorts and nothing else. I’d be lying if I said that view hadn’t gotten old.”
She laughed, barely holding back one of the snorts she was prone to.
“You mean you can’t arrest people for fashion crimes?”
“Afraid not. Worst part was the way he used to talk to my mother. If I had a dime for every time he tried to wrangle her into a date, I’d be living in a beachfront mansion.”
“He sounds like a real … character.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
She finally managed to tear her gaze away from Jeremy’s eyes – a feat that resulted in her suddenly remembering the purpose of her little visit.
“I came to return this.” She held up the plate. “It’s your mom’s. I tried her house first, but she wasn’t home.”
“I’ll get it to her.”
The corded muscles in his forearms shifted beneath his tanned skin, mesmerizing her as he took the platter.
“Thanks a lot.”
It was at that moment that she finally managed to look past Jeremy and see Paige.
She sat at the kitchen table, a half-eaten cookie ignored in favor of a book. Her long brown hair cascaded over her slim shoulders in loose curls that were strikingly pretty, even in mild disarray.
Had she inherited her curls from her dad?
His hair was cut too short to tell.
“Not a problem,” he said.
The sound of his voice brought her gaze back to him. She could’ve happily stood there on his front porch and stared at him until it got dark. However, being a cop, he probably had a highly-developed ability to detect craziness, so she clasped her hands together and drew a quick breath, preparing to make her exit.
“Well, it was nice to meet you. I—”
The purr of a motor cut her short. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a silver sedan pulling into the driveway.
At first, she thought it was turning around. But it came to a stop in front of the garage, and the driver cut the engine off.
She thought she heard Jeremy breathe a faint sigh, and then his mother stepped out of the car.
She was all smiles as she hurried toward the porch, a striped shopping bag dangling from one arm.
“Nice to see you again so soon.” She flashed Lucia a grin.
Lucia smiled back. “I came to return your plate. The lemon bars were heavenly, by the way.”
Her expression brightened. “I’ve been using that recipe for forty years. It was my mother’s – I’d be happy to share it with you, if you’re interested.”
“That would be fantastic.” Her mouth watered at the thought of whipping up something so decadent in her own kitchen. The fact that her hips didn’t need that kind of temptation was a mere afterthought, and by the time she’d considered that fact, Meredith had already promised to write down the recipe for her.
“I appreciate it. And I hope I’m not infringing on a family secret.”
Meredith waved a hand. “I’m not a recipe hoarder. Life is too short to keep good things to yourself. Speaking of which…”
She turned to her son, raising her shopping bag. “I was at the outlet mall today and I saw the cutest little sundress. I had to buy it for Paige – couldn’t resist.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” He eyed the bag. “She’s in the kitchen.”
She bustled inside, but not before her gaze darted between Jeremy and Lucia, lingering on her son.
“Your mom seems so sweet,” Lucia said when Meredith had disappeared into the kitchen.
“She’s always been one to put others first, but make no mistake – she’s got a stubborn streak running a mile long through all that niceness.”
It was hard to believe. Meredith seemed like a real sweetheart, baking for newcomers and splurging on sundresses for her granddaughter. Being welcomed to the neighborhood with fresh baked goods had been like a scene straight out of a fifties sitcom.
Before she could say so, Meredith appeared in the doorway beside her son. “Jeremy, do you want me to put on a pot of coffee for everyone?”
“Everyone?”
“I have a spare tray of lemon bars over at my place. I can zip over and get them while the coffee’s brewing.”
“You didn’t make them for someone specific?”
“Not at all. They’re your favorite, and I had extra ingredients on hand.” She shrugged. “Couldn’t bring myself to let the cream spoil.”
He nodded after a split second of silence. “All right, then. You know I can’t say no to your baking.”
Lucia thought she detected a wry note in his voice, but it was hard to gauge with someone she’d just met.
“Well,” he said after his mother retreated, “you might as well come in now. She won’t let you get away until you’ve eaten at least two servings of dessert.”
Her mouth watered.
Of course, the way Jeremy’s blue eyes flashed in the evening light might’ve had just as much to do with that as the thought of food, but either way…
“You don’t have to twist my arm.” She stepped inside, her heart skipping a beat as she passed within inches of him and inhaled his scent: soap and a spicy aftershave, with just a hint of sweat.
It sparked a craving that had absolutely nothing to do with lemons, cream or crumbled graham crust.
CHAPTER 3
Strictly speaking, Brianna Haynes’ murder wasn’t Jeremy’s business.
Practically speaking, in a town the size of Cypress, everyone made it their business. And as a sheriff’s deputy, he was in the thick of the carefully extracted facts and colorful speculation that swirled around the homicide.
She’d recently broken up with a boyfriend, and the local media had waved that fact around like a matador’s cape, tempting the public’s imagination.
Hell, even Jeremy would’ve bet on the boyfriend being involved, if he’d been a betting man. But the kid, a recent college grad, had an airtight alibi: he’d been interviewing for a job in Savannah, Georgia, the morning Brianna had died.
Thoughts of Brianna kept slipping into Jeremy�
�s consciousness as he worked his Monday shift with Richardson. The new officer was as full of ideas about the case as anyone else, and brought it up during the lulls between calls.
“I still say it was personal,” Richardson said when they stopped at a local café for lunch.
The restaurant was a favorite among the sheriff’s deputies and town police alike. Two Cypress PD officers sat just yards away, digging into the lunch special.
“Probably.” Jeremy nodded and ate his brisket sandwich on autopilot, his mind flashing unbidden to the mental image of Brianna that’d settled into his consciousness, just like it had everyone else’s.
The media had splashed her photo across every local newspaper, and they flashed it on the news like their lives depended on it.
He understood: she’d been a pretty young woman, and regardless of what the county had gone through last year, homicides were still rare in their little corner of the coastline. Her death was the sort of tragedy the news media could string out over the span of months, throwing scraps of speculation to the public like fishermen chumming for sharks.
But understanding wasn’t the same as acceptance. Brianna’s death was a thorn in his side – one that reminded him of the women he cared about. He wanted to know why Brianna had been killed as much as anyone else.
He wanted to know so that he could tell himself whoever had done it wasn’t out there waiting to hurt someone else.
* * * * *
Lucia’s short drive from work to her new place on Magnolia Street put her home twenty minutes earlier than she was used to. On Tuesday, she decided to use the extra time to relax before starting dinner.
Sinking down onto the couch, she grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV. Her damp hair was caught between her cheek and the cushion, and still smelled faintly of chlorine despite the fact that she’d washed it with clarifying shampoo before leaving work.
She loved her job, but it had a dark side: it put her hair through hell. Every year, she spent a small fortune on moisturizing and restorative treatments to protect her natural waves. A definite downside, but not enough to keep her from the work she loved.
