Romance in Color

by Synithia Williams

  “We know you and Amy have been through a lot,” Garret said. “With your husband’s passing and Amy’s ordeal.”

  “Yes.” Lillian glanced down at her skirt, playing her sympathy card exactly as Garret intended.

  Damn, he was good. Anxiety tensed Jake’s gut as he fought to remain patient. Garret’s slow maneuvers were working; no point in Jake wrecking his game by hurling all the insults and accusations he’d like to hurl. Anticipation trilled in his ears as he bit back words.

  “Which is why this request is so important,” Garret continued.

  She glanced up, her eyes growing wide. Lips narrowing. Her gaze flicked to Jake’s but didn’t remain on him. “What request?”

  “We’d like Amy to come stay with us for a few weeks before school starts.”

  “Who is ‘us’?”

  “My wife. Me. Jake.”

  She tapered her brows. They drew together in a frown.

  “Jake would like this time to spend with Amy, and we’ve offered our home to him. We all thought it would be fun for Amy to spend a few weeks with us in Montana before school starts. We could take her to Glacier National Park.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’d free your time. Allow you to finish details of mourning your husband and the things you need to do. Plus, it’d give Amy a chance to get away for the summer and forget about her kidnapping.”

  Jake detected Lillian slipping. Garret should never have admitted he had a wife. Now that she knew, she wouldn’t be so accommodating. Like his wedding ring wasn’t enough for her. The fact he said it gave the wife importance, and it had changed Lillian’s attitude.

  “Well.” Lillian flicked a piece of invisible lint from her breast, probably to avert their attention to her cleavage. Jake ignored the temptation to roll his eyes. Lillian might think she was good at her act, but Garret was an expert. Jake wished he could take lessons, but he had a feeling he’d pummel the woman to death if Garret wasn’t around. Yes, his mother had taught him better than that, but Lillian was no lady.

  “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go play with Amy.” Jake stood, thinking it’d be better if he weren’t a part of this conversation. “Let you both discuss the details.”

  • • •

  Amy was stacking animals and dolls on her bed when Jake stopped in the doorway. He watched her a moment as she straightened the animals and placed a notebook and pen on the bed. She muttered to them as she rearranged them, positioning them to her liking.

  The smile that spread across her face when she saw him swelled his heart.

  “Hey, Uncle Jake. Wanna see what I’m doing?”

  He nodded and stepped into her room, closing the door.

  Grabbing a bear from her dresser, she set him amongst the other animals then opened the notebook on her bed.

  “We’re having school right now. It isn’t over yet. Did you come for your son?”

  Jake grinned. “Uh, yes. I’m a little early.”

  “Well, he’s sick. Did your wife tell you?” She picked up a bear and handed to him. “He just got back from the nurse’s station. He has a fever.”

  Jake took the bear and touched his forehead. “He sure does. I’ll make a doctor’s appointment for him.”

  “Hope he gets better. Oh, don’t forget your daughter.” Amy picked up a doll with pigtails and handed her over. “We’ll excuse her for the day, but she isn’t sick. You might want to keep them spep-a-rate.”

  Jake chuckled at the way she pronounced ‘separate’ with an added ‘p’ and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

  Jake walked over to the corner, studying Amy as she spoke to the animals and wrote out ABCs in the notebook.

  “We’re studying our alphabet right now,” she called over her shoulder. “Your daughter knows them pretty well.”

  “She does?”

  “Yes. She’s pretty smart. Her name is Jordanna.”

  “Oh. Pretty nice name.”

  Amy penned letters on the notebook and a few minutes later, grabbed her new monkey and sat on the floor.

  “School is over for the day.”

  “Okay.” Jake walked over to the bed and planted the bear and doll amongst the others before sitting on the edge.

  “Hercules and I had fun today,” she said as she drew her knees up to her chest and hugged the monkey.

  “Hercules. Is that your monkey’s name?”

  “Yes. He likes Winona and Reagan, too.”

  “They like you and Hercules, too.”

  Amy lowered her eyes, blinking furiously as she fingered her monkey’s ears. “I miss my daddy,” she murmured, her voice cracking.

  “I do, too, baby girl. Come here.”

  He lifted her onto his lap and she wrapped her arms around him, weeping into his shoulders. He rocked her, biting back his own tears.

  Amy pulled away and looked at him. “Mommy says he’s in heaven.”

  Jake bottled his reaction as surprise flashed through him. For Lillian to say something so comforting to her child amazed him. He would have expected Lillian to be harsh and uncaring.

  He smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

  “Will I ever see him again?”

  “One day. But right now, he lives on in our hearts and our memories.”

  “Mommy says he’s still with us in spirit and watching over us.”

  Jake blinked back tears, his throat burning. He didn’t know what he believed, but he appreciated that Lillian had uplifted Amy’s grief.

  Using his thumb, he swiped away at a tear on Amy’s cheek.

  She smiled and nestled her head on his shoulder. “She doesn’t like me to talk about him, though.”

  “Why not?” Jake asked.

  “Because it makes her sad. And she knows it makes me sad.”

  Air hissed from his teeth, but he swallowed his pain. He waited a beat then asked, “Do you remember the last time you saw your daddy?”

  Amy nodded. “We played all day and had lunch. I was tired and fell asleep. When I woke up, he wasn’t there anymore.”

  “Where were you when you woke up?”

  Amy shrugged. “I don’t ’member.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  Amy’s head shook furiously. He pulled away and grasped her chin to study her. He wasn’t sure how much to press and didn’t want to traumatize her, but he felt this was important information. His gut twisted. She was a smart girl, but he wondered how much she understood.

  “Do you remember who you were with?”

  “A man. He told me he was Daddy’s friend and he was going to take care of me until Daddy could come get me. But then I couldn’t find him or my daddy, and the cops came and said he kidnapped me and my daddy was dead.”

  Amy broke down and sobbed. Jake gathered her in his arms, regret filling him. He’d wondered if Amy knew her father was dead, and now he knew.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby girl.” He held Amy while she cried, tears burning a hole in his own chest, but hers quickly dried. She jumped from his lap and grabbed her monkey.

  Lillian burst into the room, eyes wide. “Amy? I heard you crying.”

  Amy cuddled her monkey into her chest as she danced back and forth and peered at her mom.

  “What’s wrong?” Lillian asked, her eyes flashing accusations at Jake.

  “Nothing. I just don’t want Jake to go. He can stay with us, right?”

  “No, baby, he can’t stay here. But he’ll be back in three weeks.”

  Three weeks?

  Jake arched his brow and glanced at Garret, who stood behind Lillian. Garret nodded. So they weren’t taking Amy today. But the news didn’t seem all bad.

  “He will?” Amy asked.

  “Yes. Do you want to go visit him in Montana for a couple of weeks?”

  “Yes!” she shrieked as she jumped up and down.

  Three weeks. Jake would see Amy in three weeks and Lillian had given them two weeks together.

  Jake stood, relief rushing through
him. He nodded his thanks to Garret and kneeled to Amy. “Come here and give me a hug. I’ll be back to get you for a visit soon, okay?”

  She flew into his arms. “Okay.”

  Lillian took her hand. “We’ll get a calendar and mark off the days. Come on, it’s time for them to go now.”

  Amy’s lips trembled, eyes watered as she gave Jake and Garret one last hug. Lillian stood with her outside, watching and waving as Jake drove away.

  Once they were alone, Garret explained that Lillian claimed to have plans for the next three weeks but had promised the boys they could get her afterward.

  What her plans might be worried Jake. She’d said she had school clothes shopping to do, and a child’s birthday party to attend, but Lillian had never been motherly in that way. He couldn’t think of one time Brandon hadn’t done the school clothes shopping, and usually he and Jake had made a trip of it, treating Amy to just about everything she wanted.

  Exhaling loudly, he tried to remind himself that Amy wasn’t miserable. Lillian hadn’t treated her too badly, at least not in front of the men. Amy was going through a terrible thing having lost her dad, and he felt she needed to grieve. Was Lillian allowing her to grieve properly? He hoped Amy would rise strong but couldn’t believe that Lillian had changed, that she was no longer full of selfishness. It was hard—damn right impossible—not to fret over Amy’s future.

  Over his future.

  Chapter Eleven

  Reagan and Garret returned home with Nick and his wife, but Jake decided to stay in the hotel another night and leave in the morning.

  He appreciated Winona staying with him. When she told him she was going to the police station and to Brandon’s neighborhood, he grabbed his keys.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  Winona stopped his strides with a hand to his chest. “I don’t think you should come.”

  “Why?”

  “I think you should just stay here. You’re a local boy. You’re Brandon’s cousin. I think I need to try this on my own, as a private investigator.”

  Jake nodded and handed her the keys. “You’ll have to take my truck.”

  “Thank you.” Winona kissed him on the cheek and he let her leave. He wanted to be doing something, but he knew she was right.

  He paced the room. He walked outside, hiking around the blocks, and came back into the hotel. He returned to the room and opened the fridge, glaring at the bottles. What would it look like if he opened every single one and poured them out in the sink? At least they wouldn’t be there, tempting him.

  He shut the door, trying to shut out the image of the bottles. The image of his past, lying on the floor in puke and empty bottles, empty syringes, sometimes blood and urine. Brandon had taken a few different pictures of him and revealed them to him when he’d been sober enough to pay attention. They had caught his attention, but it’d taken months to improve himself.

  If you feel nothing, you might as well be dead, Brandon had told him. Living means experiencing and dealing with emotions. You have to embrace those emotions. Find a way to handle those emotions. Don’t let grief steal the best part of you.

  “Dammit,” he muttered to himself as he gaped out the hotel window again.

  Jake called Lillian, but she didn’t answer. Three hours passed and no Winona, but he fought the urge to call her. He called Lillian again three times before she answered.

  “What is it, Jake?” she snapped.

  “I promised I’d call Amy every day. Just wanted to talk to her.”

  “You’ve already seen her today. Every day doesn’t mean several times a day.”

  “I just … wanted to talk to her.”

  “Jake, you’re going to make things worse for her. You’re being too overbearing. I don’t want to freak her out. She’s having fun, playing with her animals. Please give her some space.”

  “Okay,” Jake said. Maybe Lillian was right, and she was actually acting reasonably right now. They disconnected, and he surveyed the room.

  He dropped to the floor and did push-ups. Shot up and performed jumping jacks. He continued that way for several minutes, executing a miniature exercise routine to get his blood pumping. He kept glancing out the window, waiting on Winona. Then he went to the hotel fridge, grabbed every single alcohol bottle, and started pouring.

  • • •

  Winona waited in the police station for two hours before the officer on the case spoke with her. She understood busyness and tried to respect the detective’s time, but her nerves were clenched too tight to remain patient.

  By the time she was ushered into Detective Roger’s office, she had researched everything she could about her next targets, Brandon’s neighbors. She wasn’t about to leave for a second and miss her opportunity.

  Detective Rogers was older than he looked, with a fake smile, slicked-back sandy hair, and beaver-like teeth framed into a large face. His gray eyes pierced her as if he didn’t appreciate being interrupted but probed her as if he was only doing this for his own curiosity.

  He didn’t stand when she came in. Didn’t offer his hand, only nodded at his chair for her to sit, then shuffled papers aside to open a folder. The folder was labeled Brandon Inman. To her eye, it looked relatively unworn. She wondered if this was the first time he’d opened it.

  Frowning at the folder, he glanced back and forth at her and the paperwork, his bulbous chin staying down. Then he closed it, leaned back in his chair, and grabbed a toothpick from a stash next to his pens.

  “Ms. Wall, what can I do for you?”

  “I’m seeking information on Brandon Inman.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “His death. Anything you might have.”

  “It’s under investigation right now. Do you have any information you can give that might assist us?”

  “Not at the moment, sir.”

  “Okay, well, what are you doing here?”

  “I’m hoping you can assist me.”

  He sneered. Chewing on a toothpick, his eyes scanned her body in laser-like sequence, as if she were going through a metal detector. She tampered her shivers.

  When he didn’t reply, she continued. “I was hired by the family to look into the case.”

  “Do they feel like we’re not doing a good enough job?”

  “You know how it is, Detective Rogers.”

  “Do you really want to trust this guy?”

  Winona cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

  “Jake Inman. Brandon’s cousin. He had the most to lose and the most to gain from Brandon’s murder. And now he’s hired you.” Rogers spat out his toothpick and grabbed another, twirling it in his mouth as he chewed on the end.

  Winona tried to hold onto patience even as her bones seem to tense and cringe with anger. She felt her cheeks crack as she smiled. “I never said he was the one who hired me, now, did I, Detective? And if you think Jake is a suspect, you need to open that file and read more deeply. He was at a triathlon, and he has nothing to gain for his cousin’s death but grief. The wife—”

  “We’ve talked to Mrs. Inman.”

  “Hmm. Are you married, Detective?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Did Lillian throw her charms at you?”

  Rogers jumped up. “I’ve been with this police station for fifteen years. I take my job very seriously. I’m not going to release any report to someone who is out for revenge or someone who has something to gain from this.”

  “What about justice, Detective?”

  The detective lifted one brow as he put his knuckle on the desk, on top of the file folder. She knew she was aggravating him, but she knew his kind and knew playing nice wasn’t going to get her anywhere. She damn sure wasn’t going to play the type of game Lillian would play.

  “Brandon Inman’s murder will have justice, but not by sharing anything we know with you. So if you’ll be so kind to leave us to do our job, we damn sure don’t need some woman PI sniffing around and impeding our i
nvestigation.”

  “I don’t see a ring,” Winona said. If he wasn’t going to give her anything, one more joust wouldn’t hurt.

  “Well, you can see your way out.”

  • • •

  Winona knocked on the door to Brandon’s next-door neighbor’s home, intending to ask questions about what Ms. Davenport might have seen or heard the day he was killed. She clenched her fists, repressing any sign that might reveal nervousness as she waited for the elderly woman, widowed and retired, to open the door. She only knew that information about Ms. Davenport by the Internet research she’d done while waiting to speak to Detective Rogers.

  That was about the only thing she’d gained from visiting the police station: having enough time to do some research on the neighbors. Once she left the station, she’d headed to the district attorney’s office, but they wouldn’t tell her anything either. She didn’t even get to talk to a prosecutor and wondered if the detective had already called and warned them.

  She prayed something panned out here and she could go back with news that would make Jake sleep easier at night, but she didn’t hold out much hope. She knew how harsh reality was and Jake knew it, too; he’d already suffered way too many tragedies in his life.

  The door opened and a slim, short-haired woman, about five-foot-two with hair the color of a tarnished nickel, poked her head out, keeping the door as a shield in front of her.

  The woman peered at Winona. “Can I help you?”

  “Hi, I’m Winona Wall.” She extended the business card she’d found in the bottom of her purse, thankful it hadn’t completely crumpled. If the woman took it and kept it, she’d have a hard time the next time she needed to flash the card. She hadn’t had a use for one in more than six months. “Private investigator,” she added.

  Ms. Davenport flicked her eyes to the card but didn’t take it. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “I wanted to question you about the death of the man who lived next door.”

  “Brandon Inman?”

  “Yes. Did you know him?”

  “Yes. Well, I knew of him. He was such a polite young man. And so was his daughter. So young and sweet.”

  “I have a few questions about what happened the night he was killed.”