Something New

by Cameron Dane

  Shit. Grabbing his stomach, Rodrigo thought he might throw up as Henry’s tirade unfolded and was processed in his brain. Shit. Shit. Shit. What did I do?

  Rodrigo hauled himself off the car’s hood, panic making his feet clumsy. “Henry, wait!”

  Without even looking up, Henry opened the driver’s-side door, and Rodrigo could only see the man driving out of his life forever.

  No. His chest heaved. Don’t go.

  “Dad!” Rodrigo’s voice went high with a croak as he used that word out loud for the first time in his entire life.

  That one syllable jerked Henry to a halt and had him grabbing on to the open door of his car.

  Reaching Henry’s side in three strides, with only the open car door between them, Rodrigo locked his legs so that he didn’t fall to his knees and beg. “I’m sorry.” He imagined this was how he might have felt if he’d had a father at ten years old and earned his disappointment for poor behavior. “You’re right. I did do all that. I started to care, and I didn’t want you to hurt me, so I set myself in a position where you couldn’t. I was wrong.” He notched his chin even higher, as if the angle might reverse the ridiculous threat of tears. “I apologize.”

  Henry shut the car door, eliminating the barrier between them. “Rodrigo, I didn’t even know you existed for the first thirty-three years of your life.” He took Rodrigo’s face in his rough hands, creating the most wonderful prison. “That’s more than half my life that I lived every day without knowing you were around. Do you get how sorry I am about that? I think I know what I saw when I drove up, but I’m not sure. But even if I’m right and I don’t understand it, it’s not gonna be anything I’m gonna make a stand over and risk losing you. That’s just not going to happen. Even if I get angry and need to step away to breathe, I’ll still come back.” Henry’s gaze shimmered with too much brightness, not like a sheet of cold ice as Rodrigo had so recently assessed it. “I’m not walking away from this. Get used to it.”

  Hating the flood he could feel coming on, Rodrigo buried his face in Henry’s shoulder but could not hide the ridiculous tremors in his shoulders. Henry simply cuffed his hand around Rodrigo’s neck and held him close, allowing Rodrigo a moment to get out some of the stuff he had bottled up so tightly inside himself.

  Taking a breath, Rodrigo pulled his shit together and faced Henry again. “I want you to meet some people.” He hadn’t for one moment forgotten Abby and Braden, arm in arm across the drive, waiting for him. “I care about them more than I’ve ever cared about anybody, and for some reason that I’m not going to question, they feel the same. We’re doing an unusual kind of thing together, but it’s good, and it’s working, and I’m trying every day not to fuck it up.”

  Henry chuckled and cuffed Rodrigo’s neck even harder. “That’s a good plan.”

  “Abby, Braden”—Rodrigo beckoned them closer—“can you come here? I want you to meet someone.”

  As they approached, Abby turned her head for a moment, but Rodrigo still caught her wiping her eyes. Braden was more subtle, but Rodrigo still heard the man clear his throat.

  My man and my woman. Rodrigo stood up straight, and his chest expanded with a burst of pride and love. Hell, my very life.

  “Henry, meet Abby Gaines and Braden Crenshaw. Guys, this is Henry Portman.” Rodrigo slid his arm loosely around Henry’s shoulders. “He’s my father.”

  “Good to meet you, sir.” Braden stuck his hand out in greeting.

  Henry clasped Braden’s hand and shook it. “Likewise.” He then shifted to Abby and exchanged a handshake too. “Abby, it’s nice to put a face to the name. Rodrigo has shared many wonderful things about you. Braden?” The man’s gaze suddenly narrowed. “You’re the detective, right?”

  “Yes, sir.” Braden nodded.

  “Then I’ve heard lots of good things about you too.”

  Rodrigo left the three of them to their exchanges. He made his way around to the passenger side of Henry’s car and squatted so he could look in at the petite blonde who had shown him nothing but kindness from the moment they’d met.

  “Mary”—Rodrigo’s voice went husky again—“I apologize for my rude behavior. It was sweet of you to bring me something for my house, and I do appreciate it very much.” He stood back up and wrapped his fingers around the door’s handle. “Will you let me introduce you to my friends?”

  “I’d love that, Rodrigo.” Mary smiled up at him through the open window. “Thank you.”

  I don’t deserve this much kindness.

  Rodrigo opened the door anyway, took the woman’s hand, and helped her out of the car.

  * * *

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me, Captain!” Braden slammed his fist into the arm of his chair. “One week? You can’t do this. I’m turning up all kinds of new information that not one person even made note of in the case file before.”

  “None of which seems relevant to the actual solving of these murders.” From behind his desk, Zanger shot back his reply with the grit of a rusty knife blade. “You don’t have a single solid lead about this phantom lover the Gaines wife supposedly had. And pretty much everything you do have is gleaned from the fuzzy memories of a traumatized eight-year-old girl.”

  Righteous fire blazed through Braden and shot him to his feet. “That doesn’t mean they’re not real!”

  Zanger didn’t move, but his stare narrowed so ferociously Braden had to fight the instinct to step back. He figured if the man’d had any hairs left on his shaved head, they would have stood on end and carried all the way down his back.

  “First”—Zanger’s deadly whisper rang around the office louder than the biggest shout—“if you fucking yell at me one more time, I won’t even give you one more day on this case, let alone a week.”

  Braden forced himself to sit back down. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  A sharp nod from the captain acknowledged the deference. “Second, I’ve had a couple of conversations with the priest since this whole thing started, so don’t think I don’t know how fucking deeply involved you are with this Abby woman.” His gaze settled on Braden, heavy on the pitying censure. “You don’t have any perspective, Detective, and that is never good in a cop.”

  Braden snorted. He couldn’t help it. “This insight happens to be coming from a priest with his own agenda and possibly his own secrets to hide.”

  Light ignited in Zanger’s ice-blue eyes. “You are not bringing Father Jim into this station and accusing him of having a sexual relationship with one of his male parishioners.” He pointed at Braden with his pen, striking the fountain tip through the air with his order. “I have met this man enough to know he is not diddling with anybody in his congregation.”

  Christ, Braden wanted to shake the politician out of his boss. “How do you know for sure?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I’ve been doing this job long enough that I trust my gut.” Passion captured Zanger for a moment, but then he quickly contained himself, clasped his hands on his desk, and settled on Braden with an unblinking stare. “You have a decent amount of experience too, Crenshaw. So you sit there in that chair, right now, look me in the eyes, and you tell me you think this priest was having an affair with Richard Gaines. Did he?”

  Wishing with everything in him that he could lie about a suspect without losing his soul, Braden gritted his teeth, the truth lodging in his gullet. “No, I don’t truly believe he did.” As soon as he admitted that, he shoved to the edge of his seat and drilled his finger into the case file sitting at the edge of the captain’s desk. “But he knows something. I can use this to get him talking.”

  Zanger sliced his hand across the air. “No.”

  “Come on, Captain.” Braden dragged his hands through his hair. “With any other person in this situation, you’d let me go at him until a diamond shone through all the crap.”

  “Another person is not an innocent priest who is beloved by a large portion of this community.” With each sentence Zanger spoke, the logic
in his voice made Braden want to tear every fishing photo, award, certificate, and accommodation off his walls. “I will not let you drag him into my station and start a riot on our doorstep that I have to quell. It’s not going to happen.”

  Fuck. I can’t go back to Abby with nothing.

  “Can I at least talk to him at his church again?” Braden asked.

  “Yes. But understand me. Talking does not mean browbeating or blackmailing with threats you can’t prove. You have one week, and then, more than likely, I’ll be shutting you down.” Zanger held up a hand before Braden could open his mouth and protest. “This is not personal, Detective, which is something you need to start remembering. You’re spinning your wheels, using department time, and it hasn’t given you one viable new lead. If you were not involved with this woman, you would be questioning the legitimacy of her uncovered memories too, and you know it. We have current cases that need your attention more than this one does.”

  Braden didn’t want to hear Zanger’s logic right now. The man didn’t share a bed with a woman whose memories haunted her during sleep and consciousness. Sometimes having a personal stake mattered.

  Getting to his feet, Braden vowed, “I’ll produce something solid in the next seven days. Guaranteed.”

  “I’m giving you the leeway, but I’m not holding my breath.” The captain’s cigarette-savaged voice dismissed Braden with a cut that pricked well deeper than his professional pride. “Get out of my office and go do some real work.”

  Braden grabbed the case file and left silently, but inside he fucking seethed. Captain Zanger had thrown down a challenge and a deadline. Braden only had to think of Abby and her horrific memories of sitting with her dead parents for hours on end to renew his resolve to solve this case. Zanger would come to eat his words and political pandering, Braden silently promised Abby.

  I will find the killer.

  I swear.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The bell attached to Abby’s Attic’s entrance jingled softly against the glass, indicating the arrival of a customer. Abby looked up from her workstation, a smile and greeting on her lips. She got the good portion of good morning out and then lost her voice. Lorene stood just inside Abby’s store, her purse clutched against her front like a shield.

  Nobody else was in the store. It was still a bit early for most of her customers, and Iris, one of Abby’s two part-time employees, had an appointment that would keep her away from the store until noon. Rodrigo had hemmed and hawed about leaving Abby alone, but Christian needed some backup with one finicky wholesaler, and Rodrigo had stepped out to assist.

  Lorene approached, and Abby’s heart raced. She wanted to stand and offer a welcome. At the same time, her limbs went numb, keeping her glued to her seat. Nothing in her life felt normal or predictable anymore, and she’d lost any sense of a safe place inside herself to turn to and trust.

  “Your store is lovely,” Lorene said with a shaky voice as she reached the workstation counter. “I’m ashamed to say I’ve known about it for some time but was too nervous about your response to come inside and say hello.”

  The white-gold wire in Abby’s hand slipped from between her fingers, and her pulse skittered under her skin. She looked at Lorene’s fingers nervously rubbing her purse strap, and realized her hands were trembling too.

  “I know it might not seem like it after the last conversation we had,” Abby said, “but I promise I don’t bite.”

  Lorene’s gaze dropped to the paraphernalia clustered on the table in front of Abby. “May I see what you’re working on right now?”

  “Yes, of course.” Abby found her legs again and rose. “Come around to my worktable.” She waited for Lorene to round the counter, handed her a color-pencil sketch, and then leaned in at the woman’s shoulder. “I have a friend who is able to get me raw gemstones every once in a while. Recently he had some extra little ruby nuggets, not much for anyone looking to make more than one of something. Anyway, he sold them to me. I already had some lab-created pink sapphire that I wasn’t really sure how I wanted to use. When I got the ruby nuggets, I saw this waterfall-style earring in my mind. I sat down to sketch them, and by the time I was finished, I’d put briolette-cut pink sapphire stations at three points in each.” Abby ran her finger down the line of shaded red and pink stones in her earring sketch. “I have a friend who is a cutter, and he created the briolette orbs for me.” Placing the sheet of paper on her table next to the wire and little piles of tiny stones, Abby ended, “I’m laying out the nuggets right now, trying to figure which ones should be clustered where based on the strength of their color and size, so that I can decide the best length to make them.”

  Lorene brushed her fingertips over the sketch paper, studying the earring design. “They’re sure to be beautiful.” Her voice drifted to almost a whisper. “You’re very talented, Abby.”

  “Thank you.” Jitters took Abby over again, and she busied her hands by touching over the various stones. “The style and color combination isn’t for everyone. They will be expensive, and it’ll probably take a while to sell them. I don’t get to work with natural gems that often, so when it’s affordable, I snatch them up and hope for the best.”

  Without looking up, Lorene reached out and covered Abby’s hand. “I have a confession to make,” she said softly. “After you ran away from the church yesterday, I followed you.” She finally did pull her focus off the table, and she looked straight into Abby’s eyes. “I saw you with your friends by the car.”

  Unable to tear her gaze away, Abby’s hand froze under Lorene’s. “Oh.”

  Her attempt at a smile not completely successful, Lorene picked up Abby’s hand and clasped it between her own. “I don’t understand the desire to be with two people. I don’t know that I ever will. I followed you because I saw how upset you were, and I wanted to comfort you. It didn’t take me but a moment to see that you already had all the comfort and support you needed.”

  She petted the back of Abby’s hand repeatedly, as one might do someone’s hair, and Abby understood Lorene’s nerves had just as great a hold on her as Abby’s did on herself. “I might struggle with whether I think it’s right or wrong to have three people in an intimate relationship,” Lorene went on, “but there could be no confusion or mistaking how much those two men care about you. I saw your tears, and I saw their faces. It was clear the only thing they cared about was making sure you were all right and felt better.” Her hold on Abby’s hand grew tighter, and she pumped it as if to make her point. “That’s all I wanted when I went after you, so I don’t see how I can think that wrong in another person. Or even in two.”

  Abby could hardly speak through the clog in her throat. “Thank you.”

  “I talked to Bill and to my kids and to Father Jim too. The father can’t offer his approval, but Bill and the boys want to see you again. Most of them have families of their own now, but they still think about you and want to know you again.” Lorene cupped Abby’s cheek, and for the sweetest moment, it felt to Abby like the loving touch of her own mother. “You and your two friends are welcome in my home, if you’d like. Any Sunday. Any day at all.” She brushed a loose strand of hair behind Abby’s ear and then let her hand drift down to squeeze Abby’s shoulder. “Father Jim and I will continue to talk, but in this, right now, I won’t take his counsel.”

  Letting out a long, uneven breath, Abby blinked rapidly in an attempt to dry her eyes. “I’ll talk to Braden and Rodrigo. I’m sure they would both love to come.”

  “Good.” Lorene discreetly brushed at the corners of her eyes. “I have to get going, but I will be in touch with you soon.”

  Abby rushed to the register and grabbed a business card from the acrylic holder. “Wait. Here. Take my card.” She flipped it over and jotted down some additional numbers. “These are my cell and home numbers too.”

  “Very good.” As Lorene moved back to the other side of the counter, she slipped the card into a zipper pocket on the outside of her purse
. “I have to get to a meeting at the church, or I would stay and chat longer.”

  “I understand.”

  Lorene took a step toward the door, came to a stop, took another, and paused again. She finally looked back at Abby, and words just started tumbling out. “Perhaps this isn’t my place, but I’d just like to say that you don’t need Father Jim or our church to have God in your life. I believe he welcomes you and continues to hold you in his arms, no matter who you are or if you never come to church ever again. That’s not what’s important.” Maybe without realizing, Lorene reached up and took hold of the delicate cross around her neck. “It’s the faith and belief that matter, and you can have that wherever you are.”

  The twist in Abby’s heart almost took her to her knees. “Thank you.” Her voice sounded scratchy, and it hurt to talk. “I’ll think about it.”

  Lorene dipped her head and turned back to the door. “Good-bye, sweetheart. Oh!” Just as Lorene went to push open the door, Rodrigo pulled it from the other side and stepped inside. “Hello again.” She smiled up at Rodrigo, who towered over her petite frame. “Lovely to see you.”

  “You too, ma’am.” Rodrigo pressed his back against the glass and held open the door for Lorene. “Bye now.”

  His attention half on the door Lorene had just vacated, Rodrigo made his way to Abby’s side and slid his hand across her back. “What was that about?”

  The comfort in his casual touch pushed Abby right over the edge. Burrowing against Rodrigo’s front, Abby wound her arms around his waist and tucked her head under his chin.