Rekindled

by Talty, Jen

  REKINDLED

  JEN TALTY

  Chapter One

  Assistant Police Chief Blaine Walker sat in his patrol car in a deserted parking lot on the outskirts of town. He stared out into the cold Minnesota night sky. The white moon glowed through a thin layer of gray clouds. He was enjoying a greasy bacon cheeseburger when dispatch interrupted.

  “Could you repeat, please?”

  “Gunshots reported at twenty-two-fifty Route Nine. The Mead residence,” dispatch said.

  “Who reported it?” Blaine asked, tossing his bacon cheeseburger to the passenger seat.

  “A neighbor.”

  “Five minutes from location.” Blaine slammed the microphone into the cradle. It was probably backfire from a car speeding down the road. Or perhaps Mr. Mead had resumed target practice.

  Blaine flipped a switch and the police siren screeched once, then red lights flashed across the sky. He peeled the car out into the deserted street. Not much happened in Thief Lake, but leave it to his ex-father-in-law to stir things up.

  As he pulled into the drive an uneasy feeling washed over him. He stepped from his patrol car and adjusted his holster, wishing he’d worn his uniform.

  A warm front had moved in and melted most of the snow, but there was still a chill in the air indicating that Jack Frost hadn’t caved to the warmth of spring.

  It appeared the Mead mansion had every light on, sending an eerie cast of colors across the lake. A little blue SUV was parked in the driveway with the door open. He walked across the gravel path and then placed a hand on the hood. Still warm.

  He planted his hand on the butt of his pistol and headed toward the main house just as a bloodcurdling scream echoed from inside. Reaching for his weapon, he sidestepped onto the porch. Faint sobs echoed in the stillness of the night.

  “Daddy,” a woman’s voice cried.

  Blaine carefully pushed back the main door. He kept his back against the wood frame as he peered into the foyer. A woman with long blonde hair knelt on the floor, rocking back and forth, whimpering words he couldn’t understand. Holding his pistol steady, he stepped in.

  Rutherford Mead’s body lay sprawled out on the floor. His arms stretched wide, legs slightly bent to the right. His eyes were open but glossed over. Blood trickled out of his neck onto the wood floor.

  Blaine swallowed and then focused his attention on the familiar woman hovering over the body. “Police ma’am, back away.”

  The woman gasped and scooted backward. Her hands covered her face, but Blaine knew exactly whom he was dealing with. Why had she returned? His muscles tensed as he adjusted his aim toward the floor beside her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I… I… ” She brushed her long blonde hair from her angelic face. Her hair looked longer than Blaine remembered. She glanced toward him. “Blaine, I… ”

  His breath hitched at the mere sight of his ex-wife. The blueness of her eyes was still prettier than any summer sky he’d ever seen. The porcelain shine of her skin glittered in the bright light.

  “Kaylee,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “Put your hands in the air.”

  She held her arms out to the side, dropping something to the floor. “Call for help,” she whispered. Her eyes shimmered with shock. “I was about to call for help.”

  He now recognized the object that had fallen from her trembling hands as a portable phone. He reached with his free hand for his cell and called the dispatcher, resting the phone on his ear. With his eyes on Kaylee, he bent forward and felt Rutherford’s neck for a pulse. “Possible homicide. Get the medical examiner and Chief Whitcomb out here.” He snapped his phone shut.

  Blaine did his best to control his raging pulse and focus on the situation and not the frightened creature sitting before him. He knew all too well that where Kaylee was concerned, things were never what they appeared to be. It had been years since he’d last seen his ex-wife. Years since anyone, including her father, had seen or heard from her. “What happened here?”

  She stared at him for a moment. “I found him like this.”

  “How long have you been here?” He forced his trembling muscles to hold his aim steady, but not directly on her.

  “Fifteen minutes?” Her voice trembled.

  “How did you get in the house?”

  “The kitchen door.”

  “Did he know you were coming?” Not that Blaine spoke much to his father-in-law, but last he heard, Rutherford had very little contact with his daughter. He’d even cut her from the will a few years after she’d left. But now rumors had been circulating that he’d changed his will again and left everything to her, making this a very difficult situation.

  “You don’t think… ” Her jaw dropped open as her eyes widened. “Oh God, you do.”

  “Let’s step outside.” Blaine holstered his gun and nodded toward the porch.

  He laced his fingers around her arm, and she twitched, jerking away. Her eyes met his with a combination of fear and confusion. Blackness smudged her pale, stricken face.

  “To my car.” He took her elbow, just like he would any other suspect or witness. “Sit down, Kaylee.” He pulled open the door and helped her in. He stood with his back to her, trying to collect his thoughts. Living in a small town made every case he worked on harder, because he knew everyone on a personal level.

  Investigating the death of his ex-wife’s father was about as personal as things could get.

  Rarely at a loss for words, he let out a breath and focused on the gray, smoke-like puff that formed in the air. The last time he had been unable to utter a single word was the last time he saw her. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Kaylee.”

  He took a blanket out of his trunk and covered her shaking body.

  “He left the kitchen door open for me.” The blanket curled under her fingers. “Dad never left doors open or lights on unless he knew someone was coming.”

  “You entered via the kitchen? Then did what?” he questioned, knowing he shouldn’t. Their past relationship really put a damper on him being able to control this case.

  “I was nervous, so I got a glass of water, and then I called for him. When I got no answer, I left the kitchen, heading for his office.”

  “Did you go anywhere else in the house?

  “I went from the kitchen to where I found him.” Kaylee had curled the blanket under her fingers and kept her head down.

  She was crying and he wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her it was all going to be okay.

  But it wasn’t okay, and not just because her father was dead.

  He looked up at the big white house with the dark green shutters. With every light on, the house gleamed like a scene straight from The Exorcist.

  The sound of gravel crunching under large tires caught his attention. His boss’s pickup, followed by an ambulance and the medical examiner’s car, pulled in. Blaine knelt beside Kaylee, placing his hand on her knee. The moment he touched her, a single spark ignited in his veins spreading warmth through his body. He yanked his hand away. He had a job to do, and lingering in the past had nothing to do with the present situation, no matter how pretty the past looked.

  “I need you to stay right here.” A soft scent of strawberries and vanilla filled his nostrils. He leaned across her to grab his keys. The familiar smell reeled in his head like a song you couldn’t stop humming. “Dave and I need to examine the scene. Promise me you won’t move from this spot.”

  Pressure on his bicep stilled him. “Someone killed my father.”

  “We don’t know what happened, but I’ll find out.” A sudden, sharp pain ripped through Blaine’s heart. A murder had occurred on his watch. To make matters worse, he had one possible witness and one possible suspect—his ex-wife. All in all, not a good nigh
t.

  He nodded to Police Chief Dave Whitcomb as they made their way up to the house. While the door didn’t appear damaged, his instincts told him foul play had been involved. However, with her so close, and the gut-wrenching emotions she sparked, his instincts couldn’t be trusted.

  When he entered the foyer, he had to step around Rutherford’s body. At first glance, it looked like he might have fallen down the curved staircase. Blood pooled under his head, which could be consistent with a fall, but something didn’t feel right.

  “Why is it you always have to get me out of bed when you’ve got the night shift?” Dave rubbed his unshaven face, looking around the foyer. “I won’t even mention the uniform issue.”

  “I never wear it, and you don’t have a problem with it.” Blaine removed the lens cap from the police-issue camera, flipped on the flash, and photographed the body while Dave made some measurements and scribbled them on a pad. “Besides, have I even seen you in one?”

  “Keep taking pictures,” Dave said.

  “Something’s off here.” Blaine looked from the staircase to the body. He pointed to the base of the neck, before snapping a picture of an open wound oozing blood.

  “That looks like a bullet graze,” Dave said.

  “I know what it looks like,” Blaine muttered. Ten years ago, his life had changed forever when Kaylee had run off to Europe, cutting all ties to Thief Lake, including those to her father. “Someone reported gunshots, which is what brought me here in the first place.”

  “You see that?” Dave asked the medical examiner who was already assessing the scene.

  The medical examiner gently pushed up Rutherford’s shirt. “A bullet hole.”

  Blaine swallowed and then took a few more pictures. “Didn’t search her,” he mumbled. Anyone who might benefit from a death usually looked guilty in the eyes of the public. If Rutherford changed his will, then Kaylee Mead stood to inherit one hefty sum.

  “Let’s take a look around,” Dave said.

  Blaine followed him down the hall and into the kitchen. Aside from all the lights being on, everything looked normal. “She says she came in through the kitchen, got a drink, and then went looking for him.”

  “How long?”

  “Said fifteen minutes. I heard her scream as I came to the door.” Blaine snapped on his gloves and started looking for anything that could take the blame off Kaylee. She was a lot of things, but not a cold-blooded murderer. “Damn.”

  “What is it?” Dave asked.

  “A bullet.” Blaine knelt down next to the kitchen table. “Give me a bag.” First he took a Polaroid while Dave sketched the dimensions on his pad. Then, using a pocketknife, Blaine dug the bullet out of the table and shoved it in the evidence bag.

  “Doesn’t look like there was much of a struggle,“ Dave commented.

  “That’s puzzling, isn’t it?” Blaine said.

  “Maybe he was having a conversation with someone he thought he could trust, like his daughter?”

  Blaine froze and gripped the chair. The overwhelming desire to protect and defend Kaylee bubbled in his bloodstream. Regardless of the rift between father and daughter, and Kaylee’s inability to think beyond herself, she couldn’t kill someone. Could she? “Or, whoever it was cleaned up before they left.”

  “I hope for her sake you’re right,” Dave said.

  Blaine circled the kitchen table. There had to be a clue. Something that would tell him Kaylee had just stumbled into a bad situation. Anything that could tell him who did this, and why.

  No scuff marks on the floor. Nothing out of place. Everything seemed as it should be. Not even a dirty dish in the sink.

  “Jonesy and Mac will be here shortly to takeover,” Dave commented. “You can’t question her.”

  “I know.” Blaine stuffed the camera in the bag as they made their way back to the foyer. “I’ll take her to the station and get someone else to take the official statement.”

  “We have to treat her as a suspect.” Dave raised his brow.

  “I was first on the scene. Nothing we can do about that. You need to take over here. Call ahead and have someone waiting for us. I won’t say five words on the way there.” Blaine didn’t like not being able to question her.

  “Don’t screw up.” Dave shook his head. “So, what do you make of your ex-wife’s timely return?”

  Blaine cringed. “I’d say it’s untimely.”

  Dave stopped at the front door and turned. “I’m going to search her car.” He lowered his chin. “If I find a gun, or anything that gives me cause, I’m going to arrest her.”

  “I get it.” Blaine ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. No way would he let her out of his sight. If she didn’t kill her father, someone else did, and that someone might have seen her.

  And since he was probably going to be forced to stay in the background on this one, he’d make sure he’d stay up close and personal with her.

  ‘Untimely’ didn’t begin to describe his ex-wife’s return. ****

  Kaylee’s heart pounded against her ribs, reminding her of what a mess her life had turned out to be. Bad luck seemed to follow her wherever she went. Now her father was dead. Murdered. And she was to blame.

  She’d come back to town for one reason and one reason only. To get help and money from her father so she’d be able to keep hiding. Now she was stuck in a town she’d never wanted to see again and dealing with the man who’d been the reason she’d left in the first place.

  Seeing Blaine only made things more difficult. He did things to her insides, rendering her utterly useless. Nothing new there. She silently cursed herself. Blaine shouldn’t have any effect on her, not after what he’d done.

  She glanced at her childhood home where Blaine was leaning against the wood railing on the front porch, looking exactly the way she remembered him. The same way he haunted her dreams. His straight, black hair still rebel-long, and his skin the color of raw gold. She could almost smell his faint, musky aftershave lotion.

  She pulled the blanket up to her chin and shivered, but not from the frigid air. One week ago she’d collected all her belongings and slipped away the night. Chicago had been the promise of a new beginning, but once again, she’d made a horrendous mistake.

  Blaine tossed a bag over his shoulder and made his way toward the car. He didn’t wear a police uniform, but somehow that didn’t surprise her.

  “I’m sorry that took so long,” he said as he ducked his head, seated himself in the driver’s seat, and flipped his shiny black hair over his shoulders.

  “We were going to try and patch things up and put the past behind us,” she tried to explain. But that wasn’t the whole truth. Her father had found out about whom she’d been dealing with and knew she was in trouble. He’d offered to help, but only if she returned home. Only if she did things his way. She’d never liked his way much.

  “I need you to come to the station and make a statement,” Blaine said. “Might be a good idea to call a lawyer.”

  “I didn’t kill my father.” She folded her arms across her chest and stared out the window at the side mirror. She watched her father’s home disappear into the night. Just like everything else in her life, coming home had been a huge mistake. When she turned to glance at Blaine’s strong profile, she noticed the tension in his face matched the white knuckles gripping the steering wheel.

  “Save it for the officer doing the questioning. But for the record, we’ll be asking you not to leave the area. Also, you can’t stay at your father’s home until my department has had a chance to go through it, top to bottom.”

  She couldn’t believe Blaine considered her a suspect. A lawyer? The only lawyer she knew these days wanted her out of the picture completely. She rubbed her hands across her jeans and fixed her gaze on the darkness. A thick layer of fog settled across the night like a blanket, but she didn’t really need to see anything. Either she was going to jail for something she didn’t do or she was going to die for something she did. />
  The patrol car rolled to a stop outside the police station. Well, it wasn’t much of a station. Just a small building that housed, from what she could remember, the Chief, his assistant, and possibly three or four part-timers. This part of the world was still half in the dark ages, but maybe that would turn out to be a blessing. Maybe Nino didn’t even know Thief Lake existed. Maybe she was safe.

  Blaine stepped from the car and strolled to the other side, opening the door. She took the hand he offered, letting him help her out of the car. His warm skin heated her chilled body. “Official statement? Or official interrogation?” She didn’t have to ask. She knew. The man had an uncanny ability to make people talk about things. Open up. Trust. Then he’d go in for the kill.

  “It’s a statement, for now. Just tell us what you know. What happened from the time you pulled into the driveway until I found you.” He opened the station door and motioned toward a hallway. “My office is the last door on the left. Wait there for me.”

  “Sure. A statement.” She glanced around the well-lit, tiny lobby. Somehow it was bright with light, but felt dark. “Where are you going?” Fear rippled down her spine. She didn’t want to be with him, but didn’t want to be alone. “You’re going to arrest me, aren’t you?”

  He stopped and stared at her for a moment. “I’m going to get us some coffee and snag someone to take your statement since… well, our past. It wouldn’t be professional and I could be accused of clouding the case. Covering something up.”

  “You have to be kidding me. I found my father… ” She sniffled. “You can’t think… ” She couldn’t bring herself to finish her thought.

  “Kaylee,” he said sternly, “We need to know your side of the story, officially. I’m just doing my job.”

  “I’d like my coffee black, please.” She turned away. Her own ex-husband thought she was capable of murder. ‘Officially,’ her ex-husband could shove it.

  She knotted her fists and rolled them into her lower back as she walked down the hall. Maybe she had a muscle relaxant in her purse. She dipped her gaze and started rummaging. She tried to keep the last door on the left in her peripheral vision and walk at the same time.