Her Stolen Past

by Eason, Lynette

  She had a feeling he didn’t like it so much himself. A small smile pulled at her lips at the thought. “You like this place.”

  He nodded. “I like their coffee. And just about everything else they serve here.”

  “Are you really still concerned that someone is still after me?”

  “Not as concerned as I was before we found out the shooter was dead.”

  “But?”

  “But I don’t think it hurts to stay cautious until we know for sure.”

  Once they’d ordered, picked up their food and settled into a booth—facing the door, she noticed—Sonya said, “Do you mind if I bless it?”

  He shifted, but didn’t seem uneasy. He nodded and she bowed her head. “Thank You, Lord, for this food. For Your protection. Please let this thing be over. And thank You for putting Brandon in my life at just the right time.”

  When she lifted her head she found his eyes on her, warm and smoky. “That was a nice prayer.”

  Embarrassed, she shrugged. “That was a really nice thing you did for Spike and his mother.”

  “Spike’s a good kid. He got into a lot of trouble two years ago, was hooked on meth and any other kind of drug he could get his hands on. I busted him during a drug sting.”

  “And now he thinks you hung the moon.”

  Brandon flushed and shrugged. “I gave him a chance.”

  “He reminded you of you—or what you could have been, didn’t he?” she asked softly.

  He jerked and took a sip of his coffee then a bite of his bagel. “Yes.”

  She nodded. “Why didn’t you end up like Spike?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know.” He tapped his fingers on the table, then seemed to make up his mind. “I mean, my parents weren’t into criminal stuff—other than underage drinking—but I don’t think they ever used drugs. At least none that I saw. They just weren’t there. And while I was angry about it, I was still looking for something to connect with. That was sports. Football, basketball, anything to keep moving and not think too much. As much freedom as I had growing up, I knew if I got into drugs, I’d ruin my future.”

  “So you decided to make the right choices?”

  “In a roundabout way. I wanted to play sports and couldn’t do that if I was strung out or high. Once I got out of high school, I had a full ride to college on a football scholarship. I didn’t want to mess that up. Throw in Erica’s preaching and seeing what drugs had done to Peter—” He shrugged.

  “So that’s why you’re so involved in Parker House. You want to give kids another alternative.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re a good, strong man, Brandon Hayes.”

  He flushed. “Thanks.” Silence descended as they ate. Then Brandon’s phone buzzed and he grabbed it. “Hector, just who I wanted to hear from. What do you have?”

  “I’ve got an address on your nanny.”

  “Great. Text it to me, will you?”

  “Already done. I also found out she’s working as a nanny for another couple in Charlotte, North Carolina. Tomorrow’s her day off.”

  “How’d you find that out?”

  “I have my ways.”

  Brandon grunted. “Thanks.” He hung up and looked at Sonya. “Feel like a road trip tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Technically, I’m still on medical leave.”

  His gaze dropped to her throat. “How’s it feeling?”

  “Still sore, of course, but healing.”

  “Are you staying with Missy tonight?”

  “Do you think I should?”

  “Probably.”

  She gave a nod. “Then I will. Missy said I have an open invitation. The one good thing about this whole mess is that I think I’m making a lifelong friend.”

  “Nothing like looking on the positive side of things.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s better than the alternative.”

  “Did you bring those pictures Don gave you?”

  She pulled them from her purse and handed them to him. “Why don’t you slide around here so we can look at them together,” he said.

  Her heart tumbled over itself in eager agreement to be that close to him. She got up and slid in the booth next to him. He radiated warmth. Security. She scooted closer until her arm brushed his. She looked up at him and found him staring at her. His eyes dropped to her lips. Then he swallowed and fanned the pictures on the table. He cleared his throat. “So. Ah. Look.”

  Sonya leaned forward to see the first one. Don and Ann Bradley stood on the front porch of their house. Don held Heather, and Ann stood with her hand on the baby’s head. They looked happy. “That must have been when they brought me home from the hospital.” She sighed. “It’s like staring at strangers. I can’t bring myself to even think of them as my parents.”

  They continued to flip through the pictures. Sonya stopped and pulled one out. “Look. Who’s that?” A woman held her, but it wasn’t Ann—her mother—no, Ann. Sonya firmed her jaw.

  She had a mother, and while that mother was dead, she’d have a hard time calling another by the name. “She looks similar to Ann. I wonder if that’s the sister who died.”

  “Is anything written on the back?”

  She flipped it over. “‘Miriam and Heather.’”

  “Miriam. I don’t know that Hector ever said her name.” He frowned and picked up the phone. “I’ll call Don and ask him.” He dialed the man’s number and Sonya went through the rest of the pictures. It appeared that Heather had a couple of cousins, each who took turns holding her. “A happy family,” she whispered.

  Brandon hung up and she jumped. She’d missed the conversation. “What did he say?”

  “He said it was Miriam, Ann’s sister who died.”

  “The one who fell down the steps,” she murmured. “Did they say how that happened exactly?”

  “No, Mrs. Bradley—Ann—went to check on her sister and found her at the bottom of the steps.”

  “That’s awful. Poor Ann.”

  He nodded then went rigid, his hard gaze on something beyond her right shoulder. “Brandon? What is it?”

  “My parents.”

  Sonya turned and saw two people in their mid-forties heading their way.

  The woman had her bright red hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. The man had on an auto-mechanic uniform. Grease stains dotted the gray material.

  “Brandon. I’m so glad we ran into you,” the woman gushed.

  Brandon gave a brief nod. “We were just leaving.” He nudged Sonya, who stood. Brandon followed. Pain flashed in Shelby’s eyes, but she did her best to cover it with a smile. “Won’t you introduce us?”

  After a brief hesitation, he placed a hand on Sonya’s back. “Sonya, this is my mother, Shelby Hayes, and my father, Brant Hayes.”

  Sonya smiled and held out a hand to each of them. “So glad to meet you.”

  Shelby gave her fingers a light squeeze then turned to her son. “Brandon, we’d love to have you come Sunday for dinner. Erica and Peter will be there and we’ve invited Jordan and Katie, too. Won’t you come?”

  “Probably not. I’m working a case.”

  The hope in his mother’s eyes faded to a deep sadness. Sonya felt her heart wrench for the woman. “Of course,” Shelby said. “I understand.”

  “Well, I don’t,” his father growled. “You gonna punish us forever? You’re so perfect you’ve never made a mistake?”

  “Back off.” Brandon’s low warning sent shivers up Sonya’s spine. “This isn’t the place.”

  Brant shook his head. “Come on, Shelby. Give it up. He’s never going to let go of his anger.”

  Brandon’s mother sighed and tears filled her eyes. “Why was it so easy to forgive Peter all the lousy things he’s done over the years, but you can’t find it in your heart to accept a plea for forgiveness from your parents? Can’t you just give us a chance to prove we’ve changed?”

  Sonya’s heart ached at the coldness in Brandon’s gaze. Yet beneath the c
hill, she thought she saw a glimmer of longing. He didn’t answer, just took Sonya’s hand and pulled her from the restaurant.

  Once outside and in the car he said, “All right, we have a game plan. I’m going to head back to my office and get some work done.”

  “Which office?”

  “Finding the Lost. I’ve got a couple days off from the force.”

  “Okay. Then just drop me at Missy’s. It’ll be good to hang out with her for a while.”

  “Fine.”

  She wondered if he would say anything about his parents. His tight jaw and narrowed eyes said he was still thinking about the incident. After thirty seconds of silence he shook his head and looked at her. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay, Brandon.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I’m wondering about the question your mother asked you.”

  “Which one?”

  “About why it seemed to be so easy for you to forgive Peter, but you can’t give them another chance.”

  He flexed his fingers on the wheel. “I don’t know.” His low, agony-filled answer made her heart ache anew for him.

  “Your father is right. They’re humans with faults just like all the rest of us. Keep trying to get past what happened when they were too young to be parents and focus on the fact that they want to right their wrongs.”

  He took a deep breath and she thought he might argue with her. He didn’t. He simply stared out the window. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I’ll pick you up in the morning?”

  “That’ll be fine.” She let the subject go. If he wouldn’t open up to her and let her help, he would have to work through the emotional baggage he carried by himself. She gripped his fingers. “I’m here if you need me, Brandon. I’ll just be a nonjudgmental listening ear if you need it.”

  He gave her hand an answering squeeze. “I’ll be looking forward to tomorrow.”

  The thought of spending the whole day with him tomorrow sent shivers chasing one another all over her skin. She only hoped they didn’t have to spend the day looking over their shoulders and dodging people who wanted them dead.

  FIFTEEN

  Thursday morning dawned hot and humid. Brandon picked Sonya up at eight o’clock sharp. He’d missed her after he’d dropped her off yesterday. Missed her a lot. He’d thought about her off and on all afternoon, her face appearing in his thoughts at odd moments even as he met with Erica and Jordan to discuss the other ongoing cases. He caught them up on Sonya and her case, then went home to rest. He hated to admit it, but his shoulder had been killing him.

  Jordan followed him home and had spent the day playing bodyguard while Brandon grabbed some much-needed sleep. Max had taken the afternoon off to watch over Sonya and Missy.

  Nothing happened during the night, and Brandon almost questioned whether he was just being paranoid in keeping such close tabs on Sonya now that the shooter was dead.

  And yet, something niggled at him. He wasn’t quite ready to believe that it was that easy. He felt in his gut that someone had hired that man to go after Sonya. And until that person was behind bars, Sonya was still in danger.

  She stepped out onto the porch and he caught his breath. Which made him squirm. No woman had affected him like this. Not even his ex-fiancée.

  She slid into the passenger seat and shot him a smile. “You’ve become quite adept at playing chauffeur over the past few days, haven’t you?”

  “I don’t mind. I’m sorry it’s necessary, but I don’t mind.” He ran a finger down her cheek. “Spending time with you is always the highlight of my day.”

  She shivered at his touch then blinked as though his straightforward bluntness had caught her off guard. He had to admit, it surprised him, too. “You’re a very confusing man sometimes.”

  He felt his lips tilt higher. “Trust me, I’m not nearly as confusing as you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re a woman. Women have the market on confusing.”

  She gaped at him. “I can’t believe you said that. Are you stereotyping me?”

  He swooped in and captured her lips with his for a brief moment. “Never,” he whispered.

  Her eyes locked on his. “Well. Good. I’m glad you cleared that up.”

  He leaned back. “But you’re a client.” Even as the words left his lips, he wanted to recall them.

  “Yes. I am.”

  “And I don’t get involved with clients.”

  She flushed and raised a brow, a tinge of anger darkening her already dark eyes. “Really? So you just kiss them.”

  He sighed and clasped her fingers in his. “No, I’m sorry. Not for kissing you,” he clarified quickly. “But you’re right. I’m—attracted to you, Sonya, and it’s sending my heart spinning. Frankly, I’m not sure what to do about it.”

  She blinked. “Oh. The fact that you’re laying this out here is really out of character for you, isn’t it?” she murmured.

  He gave a low laugh. “Tell me about it. But—” he ran a hand through his hair and sighed “—I know life is short, but these last few days of eluding death have really hit home. I want you to know that I don’t go around kissing clients—or any woman, for that matter. I want you to know I’m not playing games with your heart.”

  “But you’re going to table your feelings until all of this is resolved.”

  “Yes. I think I have to. I need to focus on making sure that you’re safe.”

  She nodded. “Okay. If that’s what you have to do.”

  “But when this is over—”

  “I get it, Brandon.”

  He tilted her chin toward him. “I hope so. I really do.” Then he let her go and pulled away from the curb.

  Well, if Brandon’s heart was spinning, Sonya decided hers was playing copycat. The man had her emotions all over the place. And yet, she appreciated his honesty.

  She also had to admit she’d let her imagination swing toward shopping for white dresses and pretty flowers. Every once in a while and when she’d needed a distraction from the crazy danger. But he was right. This wasn’t the time in their lives to be thinking about that. Worrying about staying alive should be priority.

  But later, when all of this was over…

  The drive to Rebecca Gold’s house took a little over an hour with Brandon watching the mirrors the whole time.

  She and Brandon made small talk the rest of the way, dancing around the topic of relationships and kissing. That was fine with her. She needed her emotions to settle down.

  When he pulled into the drive, she took in the residence. A brick ranch house in a nice middle-class area with a beautifully manicured yard. A white Toyota Camry sat in the single carport.

  “Did you call her and tell her we were coming?” Sonya asked.

  “No. I didn’t want to give her a heads-up. If she was involved in the kidnapping in any way, I was afraid she’d run.”

  “What makes you think she was actually involved?”

  “I don’t. Just speculation. But in thinking that it was someone close to the family, after the parents, she’s the next logical suspect.”

  “I wondered if she might have been involved. For the same reasons.” Sonya opened the door and climbed from the vehicle. She shivered in spite of the hot sun blazing down on her. She walked around to Brandon’s side.

  “Let’s try the front door.”

  Sonya walked up the steps and knocked. Brandon stood at her back, turned away from her, watching the street. She knocked again.

  Nothing.

  “She’s not here, I guess,” Sonya said.

  “Her car is in the carport.”

  “Maybe she’s taking a walk.”

  “Maybe.” He looked doubtful. “Let’s go around to the back.”

  Sonya followed him around the side of the house. The grass was sod, making a smooth green path to the back. Carefully tended flowers bloomed along the edges, and she could clearly see someone enjoyed her yard work.


  A small patio led to a back door. Brandon started to knock, then paused. Sonya stepped closer. “What is it?”

  “The door’s open.”

  “And look at those flowers.” She pointed to the other side of the porch. “They’re crushed like someone stepped on them.”

  He stooped, resting one knee against the top step. “There’s blood on the porch.”

  She looked to see what he was talking about. A brown patch marred the surface, then another one and another. “Are you sure it’s blood?” she asked.

  “Looks like it. Dried blood looks the same in just about every situation. And this one looks to be in the form of a shoe print.”

  She could think of a number of reasons for the open door and crushed flowers, but the blood worried her. With the way things had been going lately, she decided being on guard now might save them some trouble later.

  Brandon must have felt the same. He pulled his weapon. “Stay behind me.”

  Sonya didn’t argue. Brandon used his elbow to nudge the door open farther.

  Just as he did, something slammed into it, causing wood fragments to fly everywhere. Brandon cried out and went down. Sonya hit the floor of the porch, terror racing, survival instincts kicking in.

  She felt Brandon snag her arm and roll her into the house. He slammed the damaged door behind them and pulled out his phone. He pressed it into her hand. “Call 911.”

  Blood dripped from his forehead. He had a gash on his cheek. Sonya realized his face had protected hers.

  She froze for a split second, then dialed the number.

  The operator came on the line. “What’s your emergency?”

  Sonya sat up. “Someone just shot at us. They’re outside in the trees, shooting at the house.” She rattled off the address. She turned to find Brandon at the window, pressed to one side, the curtain parted. Her gaze landed on the couch and she bit back a scream. Her muffled whimper caught his attention. She nodded to the couch and he blinked. Into the phone, Sonya said, “There’s a woman who needs help. Actually, I think she may be dead.”

  Brandon left the window and went to the woman, felt for a pulse, looked up and shook his head.

  Sonya approached the body and dropped to her knees. She handed Brandon the phone and mimicked his actions in feeling for a pulse even though she knew she wouldn’t find one. The blood on the woman’s torso said she’d met a violent death. Sonya looked into the open, staring eyes of the victim and felt her throat tighten. “Someone shot her,” she whispered.