“When we’re done with this, Agent Robinson, I am finished. If you call me, it better have to do with an official case. Clear?”
His eyes never left hers. “Perfectly.”
She slammed the door and stalked toward the hospital, aware that she’d forgotten her jacket. Oh, well. She wasn’t going back. If she returned to his vehicle, she would take her words back.
Instead, she kept going, blocking out what felt like a juvenile breakup.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jordan snapped his phone shut, regret and relief warring inside of him.
“Where do you want me to put these?” McKenna hefted a large duffel bag and a rolling suitcase into the living room.
He didn’t have a clue what he was getting himself into. Strike that. He knew and he didn’t bother jumping out of the burning vehicle. Yes, figuratively, if McKenna were headed for hell, he’d hop along for the ride and he’d steer that vehicle elsewhere.
“I told you, I’d bring those in.” He scooped a bunch of mail and personal information together and stacked them on the coffee table. This place wasn’t even livable for him, let alone a woman.
“And I told you I could lift a couple of bags. I move in with you and suddenly become a wimpy girl?”
“That’d be nice.”
“You say that now.” She dropped the duffel and plopped onto the couch, next to a folded micro plush blanket. The one he used more often on that couch, then on his bed. “You trying to hide all the evidence of your former girlfriends?”
“Something like that.”
McKenna laughed, something this house had never experienced the entire two years he owned it. She brought magic to life. Always had. Forgetting that small, but important detail was a huge mistake.
“I didn’t know the idea of my having a girlfriend was funny.”
“It would be a nice twist to an already interesting relationship.”
“You’re not even worried I have one hidden away somewhere?”
“Do you?” She wore that smirk, the one that said she was ready and waiting to crawl under his skin.
Yup, he didn’t even try to roll down the window as this vehicle went up in flames, careening wildly toward the cliffs of insanity. He walked into the kitchen. His stomach growled.
“Let’s assume Kara knew about Ciamitaro and Mrs. Gaidies.”
“And Kara and Ciamitaro have been more than friends for at least six months, maybe a year.” McKenna appeared around the corner and leaned against the doorway. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
Nosy, McKenna Moore, right on time. “So you are worried.”
“Nope. Just digging for facts.”
“Don’t you think that would’ve come up by now?”
“Just need to know if there will be some irate woman banging down your front door in the future.”
“My front door is safe. Can we move on, now?”
“Of course.”
“So, Kara finds out about Ciamitaro and Mrs. Gaidies. That gives her a motive to kill, which I could work with if Mrs. Gaidies’ hands weren’t dismembered. That says more than jealousy to me.”
“Kara can be vindictive, but she also has an alibi.”
“Work with me. Where does Mr. Gaidies fit in? Suicide? Murder? Does he even fit in at all?”
“The scene doesn’t feel right, but outwardly it looks like a suicide. He wasn’t handling his wife’s death. He was continuing like normal. After a while maybe reality set in.”
“You’re right. It’s all wrong. Nothing was out of place. Same with the scene at the house.” He poked his head into the fridge. “I’ve got water, milk—” He opened the carton, took a whiff and recapped it. “Okay, no milk. How about a beer?” He tossed the Bud Light in her direction. “Split it with me.”
If the thought bothered her, he couldn’t tell. She opened the can, sipped from it and handed it back. “Judging from Kara’s reaction, I don’t think she knew about Mrs. Gaidies. I do think she’s left out a detail she thinks is small.”
“Like?” He took a sip of the beer.
She shrugged. “Why bring in a lawyer? Kara wants what’s best for Kara, damn the consequences or anyone’s feelings. If she’s left anything out, then it’s in her best interest.”
That cut a little too close. “Maybe she feels it’s best for everyone involved.”
“Or maybe she doesn’t want us to take a closer look at her. Or Ciamitaro.”
They were already doing that. “Chelsea called.”
“When?” McKenna seemed to hold her breath.
“While you were hauling your bags in.”
“And?”
“Just Rupert’s prints on the box.” His voice came out in a rasp. “Those hands aren’t my mom’s.”
“Geez, Jordan.” She punched him in the arm, a puff of air escaping her lips in the process. “Do you have to drag everything out? My brain was about five miles from here trying to figure out what to say if those bones belonged to her.”
“Come up with anything good?”
Color crept into her cheeks for the second time that day. She grabbed the beer from him and mumbled something about dark places and handcuffs.
He definitely liked seeing her off kilter. Talk about handcuffs was a bonus. “What was that? You were mumbling.”
More blushing and a noncommittal shrug.
Hmm. McKenna, not so much in control, just in the moment. That was a very nice picture.
Dangerous thought.
Her eyes held his for moment. “Were they able to get a DNA match?”
“Matched Mrs. Gaidies. Our guy burned the skin and muscle tissue off with acid. Acetic acid.”
Disbelief covered her face as one eyebrow rose. “Vinegar?”
“No. Glacial Acetic acid. Ninety-five to one hundred percent water free and very corrosive.”
“Somebody not only removed her hands, but they took the time to remove the flesh and return the hands to Rupert?”
“If our perp wasn’t careful, he or she could have burns, reddened areas or bandages identifying them.”
McKenna seemed to think about this for a minute. “I think we can rule Kara out completely. She wouldn’t get near anything that could mar her pretty face.”
Jordan shook his head, a smile creeping up on him. “Issues, McKenna?”
“Just stating facts. Plus, I didn’t notice any burns or bandages. I didn’t see any on Rupert either.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
She nodded. “What are you going to do about your mom?”
“Exhume her body tomorrow morning as planned. I had probable cause to do so without the remains belonging to her.”
“And that would be?”
He relayed the information Robinson had given him about the gravesite, the loosened dirt and square-cut grass. He took a long swallow of the beer. “Feel like coming along for the ride? They’re starting at nine. That should still leave you time to get to your brother’s wedding.”
“Thought you’d never ask.” She leaned against the counter and crossed one ankle over the other.
“And if I hadn’t?”
“I’d have figured out a way to be there.”
“Isn’t that how you end up in trouble? Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”
“Hey!” She smacked him in the ribs.
He caught her hand and jerked her body against his, one of his hands sliding around her waist. A small voice in the back of his head told him to release her. That he couldn’t possibly know what he was getting himself into. His body wouldn’t comply and that voice got a little smaller. A Frank Sinatra tune rolled through his head, one he’d heard numerous times as a kid.
His feet started moving, as if the room burst with the mafia man’s hypnotizing melody and they were on a dance floor instead of in his kitchen.
McKenna kept in step with him, taking his outstretched hand. “What are you doing?” A twinkle appeared in her eyes even as she tried to keep a smile f
rom creeping onto her face.
A hum came from his throat as he twirled her out of his arms and back, to the exact crescendo of the song. “Dancing with my wife.”
The smile, he’d seen so many times as a kid and dreamed of in his absence, appeared. “Is this the part where I ‘inevitably fall in love’ with you?”
He continued humming and shook his head. “You’re not that easy. That will require an extravagant twenty-step plan.”
“Smart man.”
It seemed only natural for his lips to fit against hers. For a minute, he feared she might resist, but then her lips started moving against his. Her palms rested on his chest and then she glided them upward slowly, as if she wanted to hesitate, but couldn’t help herself.
He deepened the kiss, his fingers gliding into her hair. She always smelled like some kind of flower mixed with sunshine. The combination drove him nuts. And he couldn’t get enough.
“Jordan?” She mumbled against his lips. Her tone held a hint of resignation.
“Hmm?”
She tugged his hands away from where they’d planted themselves in her hair. Her gaze snagged his and held. “Did you think about me?”
Jordan released her and took a few calming breaths, the task unsuccessful. “What?”
She hopped up on the counter and picked up their beer can, toying with its top. “I, uh, told myself I didn’t miss you when you left.”
Okay. Cold shower.
“I convinced myself that you didn’t care, so why should I.”
“I guess I deserve that.” The still constant surge of his heart belied those words. “I didn’t forget everyone here. I moved.”
One eyebrow floated upward on her forehead, her arms coming to rest across her chest.
“Okay, maybe moved isn’t the right term.”
She shook her head. “At first I envisioned you’d come back and I’d have plenty of things to shove in your face. You know, a great job, the perfect house, tons of friends and family. I imagined we’d run into each other, maybe chat and then that would be it.”
The ultimate slap in the face, considering their history.
Stubbornness mixed with insecurity in her eyes for a second, a hint of shame remaining. No wonder he couldn’t stay away from her. One minute she had the strength he expected from an FBI agent, the next she was the girl he left home to protect.
He lifted her chin. “You wouldn’t have gone through with it.”
She pulled away from his touch. “Maybe I would have.”
He braced himself on the counter-top, one of his hands on either side of her. Their faces were inches apart. He could smell the faint scent of coffee mixed with yeasty beer on her breath. “There’s no maybe, sweetheart, or we wouldn’t be here talking. Walking away is easier in theory than reality.”
“Is it?”
“I didn’t leave you, Slick.”
“You’re right.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You left everybody and everything here. I want to know why.” She inched closer to him, her eyes dipping to his lips, then back up. Her voice was a whisper when she said, “I need to know why.”
“I knew you would be okay.” That stray strand of hair popped out from behind her ear. “You’re the toughest woman I know. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself you wouldn’t be anything more than upset.”
“Try furious.”
“I wish things had been different, but they’re not.”
“Did you ever plan on coming back or contacting us?”
Guilt gnawed at him. He hopped up on the counter next to her. “Not at first.”
Silence. “What made you change your mind?”
“You.” The word was so quiet he wasn’t sure he’d said anything out loud.
“Why?” McKenna’s brows scrunched together.
There wasn’t any way to tell her without baring everything, so he forged ahead. “Come on. Don’t pretend you didn’t know I wanted you back then. It was painfully obvious. To everybody.”
A light pink hue crept into her cheeks. “Not everybody.”
Now it was his turn to cross his arms. “What would you have done if I had contacted you?”
“Depends on the form of contact.”
“McKenna.” Would they ever have a normal conversation? He leaned toward her and locked eyes with her again, hers shinning with a hint of smugness. “You would have hopped a flight and tried to drag me back. When I left, I thought it would be best for you.”
The crease in the middle of her forehead grew in size. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t crash the Charger into the garage, McKenna.”
Her back straightened. “I’m pretty sure I did.”
He touched the scar on her elbow. “When you hurt your elbow—you didn’t fall through rotting wood on the stairs leading to my room above the garage. Somebody cut that piece of the stairs and then put it back together, so that no one would notice unless they looked closely.”
“And the car?”
“The brakes were cut.”
Some of the colored drained from her face. “That’s two unrelated events.” Her voice didn’t hold much conviction. “Right?”
“No. They started out a lot smaller. Things going missing. My stuff rearranged when I would come home. At first, I thought you and your brothers were messing with me. Then my set of keys went missing. Shortly after that, Birmingham just happened,” he rose his index and middle finger on each hand, creating air quotes, “to find my house unlocked and let himself in. He tried to convince me to stop digging into my mother’s death. That the cops could handle it and they didn’t need some kid messing with their evidence.”
“Then Matthew was arrested?”
He nodded, his stomach clenching at the thought of that day. “We were discussing our theories and the dead end we found ourselves at. Out of leads. Matthew didn’t have any of his normal outlets to help us, either, since he was a suspect. They’d confiscated his cruiser and all his case files and contact folders. The evidence was stacked against him, but people still had a little faith and believed him when he said he had nothing to do with it.”
“Until some reporter got wind of the fact that she’d been pregnant at the time of her death.”
He nodded. “It got worse when the DNA didn’t match his. Even if it had matched, they had evidence, probable cause and Matthew in handcuffs before I could blink.” He’d watched that police cruiser pull away from his mother’s house, Matthew in the back seat, and fear churning with burning hatred in his gut.
Had he been wrong that whole time? Had he been played by the very person who proclaimed to love his mother and then killed her? “My heart told me the whole thing was a set-up, while my brain screamed that it was logical. There was proof. His fingerprints where everywhere. The gun was his. She’d filed a complaint against him two weeks prior. Everyone knew that their marriage had been a little rocky. And after Hannah died, it got worse.”
“She was scared, Jordan,” Matthew’s voice broke. “I shouldn’t have loaned her the gun…I didn’t know. If I had known…”
McKenna slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “It went to trial pretty fast.”
“The lawyers twisted everything I said until it seemed like I couldn’t remember the exact details of that day. Had I arrived before Matthew? How long had I been there? Was she alive when I got there? What had she said to me? It seemed like they kept asking the same questions and all I could see was—”
“The blood.”
He shook off her hand and hopped off the counter, needing the distance. He rolled his shoulders and clasped his hand behind his head before facing McKenna again. Her eyes were glued to a spot on his kitchen floor, an indent that had been there since he’d bought the house.
“They convicted him. I didn’t do anything to help him.” The feeling of not being able to come up for air still surfaced in his mind from time to time. The constant buzz of people trying to help him had mixed with his own guilt over
not being able to save his mom. “And then you broke your elbow.”
“I came home from surgery and you were gone.” She looked up at him then, something stormy gathering in her eyes. “All your stuff was gone.”
“And you were furious. I was a scared kid, McKenna. Scared that my best friend would die, just like my mom.” And he would have been helpless all over again. Looking back on the past, he could easily see how his mistakes tangled with their convoluted history didn’t make for an easy relationship.
But he wanted to try. The ball was, forever, in her court.
She didn’t say anything a moment. “I was going to have you sign my cast.”
“You still got it?” He released a breath and moved closer. “I can sign it now.”
She shook her head. “So, you came back.”
“Like I said, your college graduation announcement found its way to my mailbox. And I realized, I’d been hiding out, not really dealing with the past.” He’d known, as he looked at her picture on that invitation, that graduating from college, landing a job with the FBI in Colorado, buying a nice house, meeting the ‘right’ girl and marrying her wasn’t going to erase the past. It wouldn’t fix it.
His mom would still, always, be dead. Matthew would still, always, be in prison. And McKenna. The only answer he had for that was coming home.
To Charlotte. To McKenna. To the memories. And hope that history wouldn’t repeat itself.
“I’m glad you’re back.” Her warm smile hit him right in the gut. At that moment, even if he’d wanted to do anything else, he couldn’t help being drawn in.
The car took that final plunge and he didn’t care.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Amanda had been on the cardiac floor of Mercy Hospital less than five minutes when a heavyset woman in her mid-forties approached her, a clipboard in hand.
“You Tracy’s replacement?” The clipboard met an ample bosom as dark arms clutched it to the woman’s chest. Impatience flashed from her dark eyes.
“He didn’t tell you I was coming?” Amanda bit the inside of her cheek.
The woman gave a heavy huff. “Well, of course they did.” She shook the clipboard at Amanda. “Didn’t give me a name. You it or not?”
LINKED (The Bening Files Book 1) Page 15
