Except when they made love. Remembering was enough to have Emily squeezing her thighs together to try to contain a rush of heat. Knowing she could shake him, when nothing else could, disarmed her.
His job scared her, but his air of competence and control was so reassuring, she had begun to believe he wouldn’t die and leave her the way Tom had.
A thought so irrational had her puffing out an impatient breath. For a minute, all she did was watch him through the open door, seeing that intense concentration as he talked on the phone.
So she was irrational. Emotions were irrational. She’d never admitted to anyone at all that her refusal to so much as think of getting involved with a man again was because of her terror of losing someone else she loved the way she had Tom and Cody.
Of course, divorce was a whole lot more likely these days than being widowed again.
That possibility didn’t scare her, because she seemed to have an unreasoning faith that, once Sean made a commitment, he’d keep it. He’d definitely been hinting that he was ready to make one with her, hadn’t he, with his talk about wanting to come home to her every day, and about where they’d live?
But that brought Emily full circle. She had a horrible, sinking sensation. Could Sean understand that it wasn’t Tom she would feel she was abandoning if she moved?
It was Cody. Her baby. A little boy who had clung to her before leaving that day, who had begged Mommy to come, too. What if he had found his way home and a part of him lingered, comforted by her presence, but suddenly one day Mommy was gone and strangers were in the house instead?
Emily discovered she had closed her eyes and was trying to hug herself.
I can’t think about this. Not right now.
She became miserably aware of how uncomfortable the chair was. She was a kid left sitting in the hall, waiting to be called into the principal’s office. What could she do but fidget and worry?
If only she’d thought to stick a book into her purse instead of a handgun. One she wasn’t licensed to own. And especially wasn’t licensed to carry concealed in her bag. And, oh, boy, she’d carried into a police station. Had Sean thought of that, or had he forgotten she had the thing?
She made a face. Under the circumstances, she was pretty sure no one would arrest her for having it.
Restlessness overcame her again. She’d never been very good at doing absolutely nothing. And right now, if she let herself think at all, she’d either scare herself about the ever-present danger, or try to make a decision about Sean she wasn’t ready to make.
The alternative was being deathly bored.
Not deathly, she corrected herself immediately. Bad choice of words. But…she should have asked Sean how long he intended them to be here. Surely not all afternoon. Why not ask him now? At least she’d know then.
She made a face. Right. All she’d do was sound like a kid whining, I’m bored. Aren’t you done yet?
Finally she stood and went down the hall to the reception counter. The woman behind it smiled. “May I help you?”
“I’m stuck waiting.” Emily gestured toward the cluster of chairs. “I don’t suppose there’s anywhere I can get a newspaper or something else to read.”
The woman contemplated her. “Well, if you promise to bring it back, I have a People magazine I can lend you. I haven’t finished it yet, though.”
“I swear,” Emily said fervently.
The receptionist laughed, bent beneath the counter and straightened with a magazine. As desperate as she was, Emily would have gratefully received Field & Stream. She turned her head to see Sean standing in the doorway of the bullpen, looking annoyed. She lifted the magazine in explanation and started back to her assigned spot. He nodded and disappeared.
Emily plunked herself back down and soon became immersed in the world of celebrities.
*****
Sean started by calling Rey Mendoza. Turned out he knew Byron Saunders had been killed. No surprise there. Every cop in Oregon and probably far beyond had probably heard by now. The funeral would be well-attended, with representatives from jurisdictions in half a dozen neighboring states.
The break-in at Rebecca’s house was news to Mendoza, though.
“What the fuck…?” he breathed.
Sean went on to tell him that she and Kimberly Fisk both swore up and down that they hadn’t told anyone where she was. Sean knew for damn sure he hadn’t been followed when he took her there.
Rey, too, raised the possibility of a tracking device. When Sean told him he’d gone over his Outback with a fine tooth comb, there was a resounding silence.
Mendoza finally said, “Either somebody has a big mouth, talks in his sleep, or—” He cut himself off.
Or.
Sean leaned back in his chair. “You know the saying. If two people know a secret, that’s one too many. For all Kimberly swears now, it wouldn’t shock me if she told a bunch of people. Every one of them sworn to secrecy. She may be the talk of the college campus by now. I know she didn’t take our warnings seriously.”
“Bet she does now.”
“Oh, yeah.” He remembered her distraught face.
Mendoza cleared his throat. “Can’t say I know any of your co-workers very well. I’ve heard more about Chief Colburn.”
“You didn’t grow up here on the coast, did you?” Sean asked as casually as he could make it.
Blast it, where was Emily? Sean stood and went to the door, spotting her twenty feet away talking to the receptionist. He had a feeling he was scowling at her. When she saw him, waggled a magazine so he could see it and started back down the hall, he nodded and returned to his desk.
He more or less heard what Mendoza was telling him despite the brief distraction.
“No, we moved a lot. My parents are first generation immigrants. We traveled so they could work the harvests. Dad had a knack with engines, though, and eventually he got a job with a fruit growers supply company in Eugene repairing farm machinery. He and Mom are still there.” He paused. “My sister and I are the first two members of our family ever to go to college.”
Under other circumstances, Sean might have asked why in a presumably Catholic family, there’d been only two kids. Instead, he said, “Where’d you go?”
“Southern Oregon U in Ashland. My sister is the smart one. She got almost a full ride to Willamette and is a nurse practitioner now. Works mostly with migrants.”
“Good for her,” Sean said.
“Did I tell you what you need to know?” Rey asked politely.
Sean grimaced. “I guess I’m not as subtle as I think I am.”
“You had to ask. You should be asking.”
“I do, but…crap.”
“Anything you want me to look into?”
Anyone was what he meant.
Sean thanked him and said he’d let him know.
He went online and quickly verified what Rey had told him, then began a search for Jason Payne. All he found was found a single reference to him as an officer with the Corvallis, Oregon, police department.
Otherwise…nothing.
Frowning, he checked email and saw one from Sheriff Mackay – complete with attachment.
*****
Unfortunately, entertaining as People magazine was, there were an awful lot of pictures and not many articles of great depth. Emily mentally critiqued the dresses actresses wore on various red carpets. She pondered the recipes provided by celebrity chefs at the back even though none of them really grabbed her. She flipped through the magazine a second time, then a third.
A Time magazine or Newsweek would have kept her occupied for longer. The Economist, even if it happened to be focused on African politics or ecological issues in China.
She stood, catching Sean’s eye. When she nodded toward the reception desk and held up the magazine, he nodded.
The receptionist thanked her for returning the magazine. “There might be something back in the break room,” she said doubtfully, “but people here are usually to
o anxious to be interested in reading a magazine article while they wait.”
Emily could see that. Currently, a young man with multiple piercings and a blue mohawk slouched despondently in the waiting area. Two chairs away from him, a matronly woman quivered with anxiety. His mother? As far from them as it was possible to get, a young woman and an older man had their heads together in an intense, low-voiced conversation.
Emily sighed and returned to her seat. Sean had been watching for her and after a nod he returned his gaze to his monitor. Something about the way he hunched in front of it made her think whatever he was reading wasn’t good news.
Her heartbeat jumped and she looked up and down the connecting halls. Lights were on in a few of the offices, and she heard distant voices, but the only two people she could actually see were Sean and the receptionist. She suddenly felt isolated, even invisible.
Silly. Sean would look up any minute to check on her. And she didn’t want him to worry about whether she was bored. The last thing he needed was a distraction.
Unfortunately, she was starting to think she would need a visit to the restroom soon. Would Sean want to walk her there?
She craned her neck to see if one was close by.
*****
Damn, Sean thought, opening the attachment that Mackay’s short email said was Jason Payne’s personnel file. Letting a co-worker see this kind of information was an invitation for a lawsuit against the county. Something in it had caught the sheriff’s eye.
Mackay had highlighted two fields in bright yellow.
Jason Payne’s honorable discharge from the United States Army was dated eighteen months ago. He had started as infantry, but ended up an M.P. That military police experience explained his hiring at the Corvallis Police Department and the promotion to detective when he came on here, even though he’d only stayed on the job in Corvallis fifteen months. No wonder he seemed green.
The second field highlighted contained Jason’s reason for wishing employment in Burris County: family.
Sean frowned as his gaze lingered on that. He looked at contact info. The two names listed with phone numbers were male. Phone numbers weren’t local. Both were described as “friend”. Military buddies?
So…where was the family?
Something drew Sean’s eyes to the very top of the employment application, to where it asked for name. Jason was listed as his middle name. In the field for first name, he had written only an initial: A.
An icy sensation spread through Sean’s body.
A.J. Payne.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Eyes never wavering from Emily, Sean stood, came around his desk and went straight to her. “Need anything?” he asked.
She almost shivered at the sight of his face close up. She couldn’t bring herself to ask what he’d learned. Beneath that blank expression, she sensed dark, swirling emotion. Hurricane strength.
She cleared her throat. “I could use a trip to the restroom.”
He nodded. “This way.”
When they reached it, he leaned a shoulder against the wall right beside the door. “I’ll wait.”
Sure enough, she came out to find he hadn’t moved. His face seemed to be carved out of stone, and when their eyes met she could tell he wasn’t ready to talk.
She thanked him and returned to her chair. With a curt nod, he left her to go back to his desk.
The halls grew a little busier for a short while, allowing Emily to people-watch. The arrival of Lieutenant Wilcynski gave her a moment of anxiety, but he stopped and made civil conversation for a minute. She explained that her store was closed today and neither she or Sean could think of a secure alternative.
“I understand,” he said with a nod, “but if I were you I’d be going stir-crazy.”
“I’m kicking myself for not bringing something to read,” she admitted.
He chuckled. “You know, I’ve always got a couple of books stashed in my desk. Hold on a minute.”
As good as his word, he returned with two paperbacks, one a thriller, one science fiction. She skimmed the backs, chose the science fiction and thanked him with an enthusiasm that seemed to amuse him.
Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, she decided.
The quiet descended again. Looking at her watch, she realized the small burst of activity had been during the lunch hour. For no good reason, she suddenly felt terribly isolated. There were plenty of people in the building. But the nice woman at the reception desk had apparently been replaced by a uniformed officer who had his back to her.
Anxiety shivered through her, but she quelled it by turning her head so she could see Sean. He was on the phone now instead of poring over his computer.
After some deep breathing, she went back to her book.
*****
Goddamn.
Sean sat back in his chair, trying to think. He didn’t want to believe A.J. Payne could be Braden Wilson’s stepbrother...but if he was, he’d been involved in the investigation every step of the way. In fact, he’d handled chunks of it. Starting with canvassing neighbors around Frank Lowe’s house. Nobody had seen a thing, he said. But what if one of them had?
But then Sean went utterly still, the ice spreading until he was held in its grip.
He had assigned Jason the job of researching Corinna Wilson’s history. Supposedly she and Braden had lived in an apartment in North Fork for only a few months before she died. Under pressure, according to Jason, the manager had produced her application and been embarrassed because he’d let her move in even though she hadn’t given a former address or references.
The ice cracked enough to let Sean open a website for the apartment complex, grab his phone and dial.
“You’re lucky you caught me. I’m the manager, and I don’t usually work on Sundays,” a man named Brad Sweeney said. “I sure haven’t talked to anyone from the sheriff’s department recently.” He paused. “What was that name again?”
“Corinna Wilson, teenage son Braden Wilson.” He gave the theoretical dates of their residency.
“Don’t sound familiar, but I guess Wilson is pretty common.” A clatter of fingers tapping on a keyboard came through the phone. “No Corinna or Braden Wilson,” Brad Sweeney said at last, no doubt in his voice. “Unless they used another name…”
“You’re sure you didn’t talk to a Detective Payne.”
“I said I didn’t.” He sounded mildly offended. “My assistant manager would have left me a note about something like that. It’s been six months or so since we’ve had a police inquiry, and that was North Fork P.D. This is a decent place. We don’t have a lot of problem with crime.”
Sean thanked him and ended the call.
At an oblique angle through the door, he saw Emily, apparently absorbed in the book Lieutenant Wilcynski had loaned her. She’d hadn’t uttered a word of complaint even though she’d been stuck on a hard chair in the hall for three plus hours now.
God. Payne.
A fellow cop.
Visions of the obscenely posed bodies, the gaping throat wounds, the rivers of blood, ran through his head.
Dishonorable discharge.
Rage melted the ice. He rose to his feet. He’d give the bad news to Wilcynski, then get Emily the hell out of here. As much as he wanted to arrest the scum himself, he didn’t trust himself to handle it professionally. Not when he remembered Emily’s terror, the feel of her shaking body plastered to his.
Only once before had Sean wanted to kill, and then he’d been a teenager. Fortunately, he’d never been allowed within striking distance of the creep who’d beaten Matt to death.
Sean tempted himself with a plan. He could set up a meet with Jason in an out-of-the-way place. He knew the guy wouldn’t go quietly. If he resisted arrest…shit happened.
Sean looked down to see that his hands shook. He balled them into fists. I’m a cop. I protect and serve. I believe in justice.
Sean closed his eyes and conducted an intense internal battle that, mercifully, was
brief. Assassination had no place in his value system.
Letting out a ragged breath, he opened his eyes and drank in the sight of Emily, waiting for him. In that instant, he knew he’d have no trouble at all living with her memories of her lost husband and child. What kind of fool had he been? They were part of what made her the complex, compassionate, sometimes sad woman she was.
The woman he loved.
One last glance at her, and he rose to his feet. It was only a few steps to the doorway into Wilcynski’s office. Worley was still here, a few desks away, a uniformed deputy half-sitting on his desk talking to him.
Sean didn’t want anyone else to hear what he had to say, not yet.
*****
Another detective – at least, Emily assumed he was one, since he wore a badge and gun but was dressed in chinos and a long-sleeve polo shirt instead of a uniform – came in through the exterior door to her left. She caught a glimpse of daylight. Maybe there was more parking back there. It would be a lot closer to the detective bullpen. Sean might have used the garage only because he didn’t want her exposed.
Sandy-haired, with eyes of an unusually light shade of brown, the guy smiled as he walked toward her. “You must be Emily Drake. One of the guys mentioned you were stuck waiting here.”
The few passing deputies had all stared. She made a face. “At least I have a good book now.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You know, the break room is right there.” He nodded to the single door between them and the exit. She’d seen several of the uniformed cops go in and out of it earlier. “Get yourself a cup of coffee if you want. Or there are snack and pop machines.”
She’d been trying to ignore the hollow feeling in her stomach. “Really?”
“Would I lie?”
Hesitating, Emily turned her head to see that Sean wasn’t at his desk. She hadn’t noticed him standing up, but he couldn’t be far away. He was probably talking to the lieutenant. She might be able to buy a can of pop and a bag of chips by the time he returned to his desk.
Twisted Threads (A Cape Trouble Novel Book 3) Page 24
