“No, ma'am. I looked in the window, saw the mess, and called the sheriff immediately.”
“I see.” She let out a tired sigh. After the night they'd had, he wondered if she'd managed any sleep. She turned to her husband. “We'll have to stay at one of the bed-and-breakfasts in town.”
Her husband nodded. “We can't stay here. It'll take days—weeks even—to clean that up.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Marsh,” Mags said. “Did you notice anything missing?”
Mr. Marsh huffed. “Who can tell with that disaster area?”
Reid jerked his chin toward the house. “Brynne might be able to tell. I think she spent some time here.”
Brynne.
Once again, her name popped up.
Maggie angled her head, a small smile playing on her lips. What? Simple deduction. Big deal. Didn't mean he wanted to interfere.
Except, yeah, maybe he did. Little bit.
Mags reached for her radio. “I was just about to suggest that. I'll get her down here.”
* * *
Brynne stood in the entryway to Nelson's house, her mouth partly open, at the sight of the normally neat and tidy living room.
So many memories in this home. From the time they were kids, middle-schoolers hanging out together, watching movies, eating popcorn, sulking about the cool kids who never paid attention to them, they'd been crashing here.
Together, they'd navigated adolescence.
Now, not one piece of furniture stood upright. The sofa, the chairs, the bookshelf with the CDs were all tipped and facedown on the recently resurfaced hardwood. The television sat in pieces, its various parts scattered.
That wasn't the worst of it. The worst came from the glass end tables that were now without glass. Tiny glistening ice picks formed a path across the floor.
“Oh, my God,” Brynne said.
Mr. Marsh stood behind her, taking in what was left of his son's belongings. “It's a mess.”
Understatement of the century. It would take days, at least, to clean this up. Nelson would be devastated.
Brynne spun back to Mr. Marsh, who was standing beside Maggie, his cheeks sagging and pale. Mrs. Marsh and Reid—whatever the heck he was doing here—had stayed outside.
“We can't tell Nelson,” Brynne said. “Not until his condition improves. He loved this house. Knowing someone did this will devastate him.”
Mr. Marsh nodded his agreement, but Maggie shook her head. What was that about?
“I'm sorry,” she said. “We can't keep this from him. Not if it's somehow tied to his shooting. We were out here last night talking to the neighbors and nothing appeared disturbed. Whoever went in there, did it after we left.”
Mr. Marsh did a double take. “I thought the shooting was random?”
“We haven't determined that yet. It could have been, but this break-in might indicate a connection.”
Brynne angled back and once again inspected the carnage. “Someone who knew about the shooting could have broken in here, right? Don't thieves do that all the time when they know people aren't home?”
“It's possible.”
Something in Maggie's tone, the patronizing flatness, hit Brynne the wrong way. What was happening here? And since when did she and Maggie ever have tense exchanges? “You don't think so?”
Maggie turned, set her hand on Mr. Marsh's arm. “Would you give me a second with Brynne?”
His gaze shifted to Brynne, then back to Maggie, but he kept any questions to himself.
The past twenty-four hours had been an epic nightmare. For Nelson's parents, she couldn't imagine the anger and heartbreak, but they'd always been strong and steady. Drama free. Right was right, wrong was wrong. Not a lot of gray areas. Which, Nelson had confided, sometimes made life with them rigorous.
Right was right.
Wrong was wrong.
Zero leeway.
Mr. Marsh left via the front door and Maggie waved a hand. “I wanted to speak with you alone. Parents, sometimes, are too close to the situation. Emotions take over and they don't see it clearly.”
“Okay.”
“Brynne, look, I'm concerned. None of this is making sense to me. Nelson was shot soon after coming out of your store, then your store is broken into, and now Nelson's home. Someone is looking for something. If you know what that is, I need to know.”
Brynne gawked. Now the sheriff thought she was involved? Outside of being the victim of a break-in, she didn't know anything. Absolutely nothing.
“Maggie, I promise you, I don't know. Believe me, yesterday terrified me. And then last night, coming back to find strange men in my store, it's crazy to me.”
“Can you think of anything Nelson might have been doing that would prompt something like this?”
Brynne waved her arms around the room. “This? No way. He's an insurance salesman. Just a regular guy trying to make a living.”
“Does he have money problems?”
“No more than any other twenty-five-year-old. He lives on a budget, but he'd gotten a raise recently so I think things had loosened up. He bought that television.” She gestured to the carcass of the large-screen TV and shook her head. “He was so proud of that.”
“All right. The Marshes have given us permission to look around. Would you know if anything was missing?”
“Oh, Maggie, I don't know. The big stuff, sure, but it's not like I know what's in his dresser. We're friends, not a couple. I don't know where he hides money or credit cards, but I've been here enough to know he keeps his iPod dock on the kitchen counter.”
Throughout all the dinners and movie nights, she hadn't necessarily logged the details. Did it make her a rotten friend because she hadn't been that invested in what Nelson kept in his house?
She pressed three fingers into her forehead, closed her eyes, and concentrated on moving forward. Nothing in the past mattered. She opened her eyes again. “I'll go through the house. I don't know. Maybe something will click.”
“Thank you. Anything you can tell me would help. Do you know if he has a computer?”
“Yes. Of course. A laptop.”
“We haven't done a thorough sweep, but I didn't see it my first time through.”
Which made sense because he always took his laptop with him. And since his car was still in front of the shop…
Brynne snapped her fingers. “It could be in his trunk. He carries it just about everywhere. He saved for it for months and doesn't like leaving it in plain sight.”
“I'll have someone check that.”
Maggie dug a tiny notepad and pen from her back pants pocket. Brynne had given her that notepad. She'd picked it up as a sample at a trade show, but found it too small to be of any use in the shop and thought Maggie could use it when she didn't feel like carrying the iPad she sometimes used.
“Walk me through here,” Maggie said, “and we'll see if you notice anything missing.”
Brynne nodded. “Sure, but Maggie?”
“Yes?”
“Why is Reid here?”
Maggie looked away, smiled a little. “Outside of him being nosy? Don't worry about it. Let's get started.”
Avoidance. Not happening, lady. Brynne crossed her arms and tap-tap-tapped her fingers against her biceps. “After you tell me why Reid is here. It's a reasonable question. He doesn't really know Nelson. And he, of all people, knew Nelson wouldn't be home to accept visitors. What's going on?”
And then it hit her. Ohmygod. Reid must have come by to snoop and found this mess. He'd been the one to call the police.
Brynne opened her mouth and huffed out a breath.
Maggie put her hand up. “Just hang on. Don't let your imagination run wild. After last night you know enough about my cousin to realize he likes to insert himself into everyone's business. The big jerk can't help himself. He's an absolute dog with a bone. You'll probably find out anyway from the gossip pipeline, but Reid found the place like this.”
“I don't understand.”
“I say that a lot when it comes to Reid.” Maggie gently smacked her notepad against her thigh. “He wants to help me figure out who shot Nelson. With his background, he's finding life as Mr. Average Citizen is dull. Comparatively speaking. He looked in the back window, saw the mess, and called me.”
Outrage burned inside her. The absolute nerve of him. “Snooping. In someone else's house. Without permission. Isn't that illegal?”
“He didn't go inside.”
“Why?”
“Mainly because he looked in the window first. I'm tempted to arrest him for trespassing.”
“I think you should.”
“If he doesn't stay out of my investigation, I may yet. First though, take me through the house.”
After touring the disaster area known as Nelson's house and not finding anything substantial, Brynne walked outside, spotted Reid casually leaning against Maggie's car.
Dressed in long-legged jeans, biker boots, and that distracting black T-shirt that fit his muscular shoulders just right, the man screamed badass.
And he wasn't even trying.
That, for a girl who'd never been known for badassness, was just irritating.
As helpful as he'd been to her, he shouldn't be poking around another man's house. Despite being someone who liked keeping the peace, choosing her battles, and avoiding arguments, she couldn't deal with Reid invading Nelson's space. When it came down to it, people needed to keep their grimy mitts off of other people's things.
She'd learned that the hard way when the dippy blond intern had put her hands on Brynne's equally dippy husband.
Don't think about him now.
It had taken her months to put the end of her marriage behind her. Months of self-reflection and hard work. After trying so hard to fit into the mold Kurt had expected, the nail and hair appointments, the makeup, the clothes, all that high-maintenance, time-consuming crap, still he'd dumped her.
Well, no more. The new Brynne wasn't caving to what men wanted.
Or expected.
Even if she did check her appearance in a mirror twelve times a day. Something she hated, but that nagging self-doubt always prompted her to fix her hair or her lipstick, maybe adjust her belt. Whatever.
Reid met her gaze and his eyes held enough challenge to intimidate. No surprise there. From the time she'd stepped into the Triple B yesterday, she'd recognized a certain assertiveness in him. That aggressiveness innate to alphas. Reid Steele, from what she knew of him, thrived on challenge.
Conflict.
Two things she despised.
But this? Snooping in Nelson's things? That was just flat-out wrong.
She hustled down the porch steps, teetering on her heels—damned shoes—but making quick strides toward him even if her pencil skirt slowed her down some.
Apparently he'd read something in her body language because he straightened up. Seeing the half a mountain that he was, she pushed her shoulders back, forced herself to stay strong.
Don't give in.
“Hi,” he said.
She grabbed his elbow, walked him a few feet from Maggie's car and the Marshes. “I need to talk to you.”
“Uh-oh. What's up?”
She faced him. “Why are you snooping around Nelson's house?”
Insolent jerk that he was, he shrugged. “Because he got shot yesterday and then two guys broke into your store looking for something. I know you're chummy with this guy, but”—he swooped a finger—”nothing about this sitch adds up. I don't think he's as squeaky clean as you think.”
“You don't even know him!”
“I don't need to. Believe me, honey, all this stuff that's happened since yesterday? It's not random. I was gonna poke around. See if he had anything unusual hidden somewhere. Only, someone beat me to it. You can't think that's unrelated.”
Maddening man. The arrogance. Unbelievable. Stay strong. She folded her arms, focused on not slouching. Not giving an inch. “How about not telling me what I think? I haven't given you that right.”
Go, Brynne. Where was this girl when that rotten husband walked all over her?
Reid's head snapped back and he stared at her for a few seconds, his eyes moving over her face. Stay strong.
“You're right. I'm sorry.”
Wow. That she hadn't expected. What she'd expected was a little alpha male tirade, a little condescension and lecturing about how naive she was. And maybe she was, but loyalty ran deep with her.
He touched her arm. “I am sorry. I get dialed in sometimes. I gotta tell you though, something is not right here. Did he say or do anything weird when he came to see you yesterday?”
Not only had he apologized, now he'd asked for her input?
This man. Full of revelations. If she wasn't so mad, she might let herself fall for him.
Oh, Reid, Reid, Reid, what are you doing to my five-year plan?
Sort of. She couldn't say that though. Too much of a betrayal when she wasn't even sure if she'd read the situation correctly. “No,” she said. “I mean, he came to tell me he had to break our dinner plans for tonight, but that's it.”
“Why didn't he call?”
“I have no idea. Maybe he was in town. It's not unusual for him to pop in on me when he runs to the post office or the bank. He said he wanted to see me before he left.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
She thought back on his visit, ticking it back in her mind. “A conference. Someone got sick and he had to take his place.”
“When was he leaving?”
“He said last night.”
“Kinda quick, no?”
Yes. Exactly what she'd thought. “It is unusual for him. He tends to like planning.”
“What else? Anything odd?”
The call. The one he'd received at the Triple B. She tilted her head back, stared up at a perfect blue sky, and squinted against the bright sun.
“Brynne?”
She couldn't admit that. Not to Reid. He was already suspicious and the call could have been nothing. Nelson could have been, as he'd said, stressed about the trip and acting goofy.
Didn't mean anything. Did it? Then again, if her choice of husband were any indication, her judgment wasn't exactly rock solid.
This was Nelson. She'd known him for years and he'd never disappointed her. Unlike Kurt.
Still, she wouldn't mind knowing who'd called him. Easy enough to find out, because for safekeeping she'd brought home an envelope with his belongings, including his phone. Apparently, since Nelson was a victim and hadn't shot back at his assailants, the police had no right or reason to confiscate his personal property. Chances were, after this latest development of Nelson's house getting trashed, Maggie would get a warrant to seize his phone.
Before that happened, Brynne would cruise the call log. No harm in that.
She looked back at Reid. “He was in a hurry. That's all.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes,” she said. “I'm sure.”
At least for now.
* * *
After dealing with Mags and Brynne and their various issues with him, Reid did the only thing—tactically speaking—he could.
He retreated.
When it came to women being pissed at him, he was smart enough to know he should make himself scarce. So he headed back to the Hill to bug Jonah.
“Hey,” Reid said, striding into the bedroom that Jonah had converted to a gaming room.
“Hang on, Meathead. I'm testing something.”
His brother was deep-couch sitting, game controller in hand, his thumbs flying.
What else was new?
Half of Jonah's life was spent lounging around all day, making millions on gaming software he'd built.
Some freaking life.
But hey, the idea of making money by sitting on his ass all day worked for him. Reid? He'd shoot himself. One good shot to make the madness end. Anything to get him out of sitting inside all day.
The image on the giant wall-mou
nted screen froze and Jonah whipped his headset off. “Shit.”
“What happened? Epic warfare wasn't so epic?”
“To you it's a joke. To me it's two hundred grand in development costs.”
He ran his palms up his forehead and banged on his scalp. Since selling his company, his kid brother, from what Reid could tell, had been at loose ends. Maybe he'd secretly been working on the next big thing.
Only, the next big thing hadn't quite hit like the first big thing and baby brother was having some sort of billionaire crisis.
“Dude,” Reid said, “chill. You're a stress monger. Take a break and get the hell out of this cave. Breathe some fresh air. Here's an idea. Maybe let the sun hit your skin.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“I'll pass, thanks.” He smacked Jonah on the head. “Off your ass. Let's get lunch in town. Unwind you some.”
As much as Reid liked breaking Jonah's balls, he didn't want him having a stroke at the ripe old age of twenty-seven. His brother needed to decompress and if Reid had to carry his ass out of this aboveground dungeon, he'd do it.
Jonah didn't move from his seat and Reid smacked his head again. “Let's go. The software can wait. By the time you get back, you'll have a clear head. I promise you.”
“Quit freaking hitting me. I hate that.”
“Waah-waah.”
Jonah pushed out of his chair, stretched his arms over his head, cracked his neck. Who the hell knew how long he'd been sitting messing with that game.
Reid's phone rang. Big brother number two. “Hang on. It's Grif.” He picked up the call. “What's up? I just convinced Jonah to leave his cave for lunch. You up for it?”
“Can't. No time. Since Jonah's there, put me on speaker so I don't have to repeat this.”
“Hang on.” Reid tapped the screen again. “Go.”
“The mayor just called. We got another shooting.”
What in hell was going on in their little town? Two shootings in as many days.
“Come on!” Jonah hollered and Reid held up his hand.
“Who is it?”
“Some guy on the other side of town. Ed Wayne is his name.”
Reid didn't know him, and the way Jonah was shaking his head, he didn't either. “Don't know him. Another drive-by?”
Living Fast: Steele Ridge Series Page 9
