Suspicion of Guilt

by Tracey V. Bateman

  No one had seen the trouble beneath Jonathon’s wall of pretense until the damage was done. And this Leigh Sommers had all the earmarks of making another Jonathon—a chip on her shoulder the size of Mount Rushmore, the black leather jacket, and an unconventional style that shouted rebellion. Oh, yeah. Leigh was trouble. Big trouble with a sweet smile beneath that street-smart exterior. She had the sort of smile that made a person want to give her the benefit of the doubt, encourage her to make good grades and earn her degree so she could rise above her upbringing.

  But he knew better, and he would not be fooled again. “Forget it, Corrigan. I’m not interested in a bald, aging cop.” Leigh’s accusing tone shocked him to the present. He caught her glare and threw it right back.

  “Believe me, trouble-making, body-pierced teens aren’t exactly my type.”

  A deep blush appeared instantly on her cheeks. “I’m twenty-one,” she muttered without making eye contact.

  Feeling sufficiently back in control, Reece turned to Denni. “I asked about the other girl.”

  Denni brushed past him, headed toward the basement door. “Fran’s showering. She’s been out looking for work all day.”

  “I thought all the girls were already working.”

  “Fran is perpetually between jobs.” Leigh rolled her eyes.

  “Leigh!” Shelley glared at the other girl as if to say, “Don’t diss one of our own in front of the C-O-P.”

  Reece gave her a lopsided grin. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I won’t automatically shoot her to the top of my suspect list just because she’s jobless. It happens.”

  But he made a mental note. Someone without a steady income, “perpetually between jobs” rather, might just need to rip off her own benefactress for a little extra cash. Interesting new twist. Maybe he’d been concentrating on Leigh a little too much.

  “You talking about me?” Fran entered the room, her face devoid of makeup. Wearing a blue T-shirt and ripped Levi’s, she looked like a normal college student. But then looks were deceiving.

  “Well, Detective, if you seriously want to help us, then I suggest we get started pumping out the water.” Skepticism sparked in Denni’s eyes as though she knew full well what the news of Fran’s employment status had done to his list of suspects.

  He winked at her and she blushed.

  Inwardly he acknowledged that blush for what it was. She might not be a pushover for a compliment, but she was a woman. And it was becoming more evident that she was just as attracted to him as he was to her. He didn’t like the thought of using her feelings against her. But after months of a cold investigation, it might just be time to mix things up.

  Chapter Three

  With a gasp, Denni snatched up her soggy scrapbook from the drying floor. Her heart twisted inside her chest and she captured her bottom lip between her teeth.

  How could she have been stupid enough to leave her cherished baby book downstairs? One rule of the house was to put things back where they belonged. Too bad she hadn’t followed her own stinking directive. She hadn’t even thought to look for it when she’d first seen the flood.

  Her mother had faithfully contributed to the baby book filled with childhood highlights that extended to Denni’s graduation day. She’d presented the book with a red ribbon tied around it the day Denni left for college.

  Denni lifted a loose photograph next to where the book had lain. She picked it up. Her favorite picture of Mom and her. Denni had been three years old and mom was swinging her around the room. Mom’s ringing laughter was almost audible through the picture.

  Mom had been like that. All fun and surprises and full of hugs and warmth. That first day of adulthood for Denni had been the last time she’d seen her mother alive. Two months later, the most important woman in Denni’s life had collided with a drunk driver and had instantly gone to be with Jesus. And now the photo was ruined, half the ink washed away.

  “You planning to eat supper?”

  Yanked from the memory of her mother’s face, Denni turned toward the steps, following the sound of Reece’s voice. She squared her shoulders and forced control.

  “I came down to see if you’re going to have pizza. Those girls can pack it away like a high-school football team. If you don’t hurry, you’ll be out of luck.”

  Discovering her most cherished possession soaked and ruined had effectively robbed Denni of her appetite. She shrugged.

  “They can have it. I’ll grab something later if I’m hungry.”

  He walked toward her, his boots squishing on the puddled concrete. “Hey, you okay?” He glanced down at the book in her hand and his face sobered. “Special memories?”

  Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

  “Maybe you can salvage some of it.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes, a knee-jerk reaction to a sympathetic tone and his warm, gentle touch on her shoulder.

  “Let me take a look at it,” he said softly. “You know men are the problem solvers of the world.” He gave her a lopsided grin.

  Gratefully, she surrendered her book and the ruined photograph, hoping against hope that he’d give her the solution her muddled brain couldn’t seem to form. She honestly didn’t know if he was putting her on or not with that boyish grin, but if he could figure out a way to save her keepsakes, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  He carried the book across the room and set it on top of her laundry table. Carefully, he opened the cover. He smiled.

  “This is you?”

  She nodded.

  “Cute.”

  Rolling her eyes, she stepped away. “Thanks.” She enjoyed the way he handled her memories with gentle care, his long fingers working open the damaged pages.

  “These pages are removable,” he said. “If we take them out and spread them on the table to dry, you should be able to salvage most of the album. They won’t be like they were before, but at least you’ll still have your special memories.”

  “It’s sweet of you to try to help.”

  “It means a lot to you, huh?”

  “Everyone treasures their baby book.”

  “Not everyone has one.”

  Something in his voice alerted her instincts. She set aside the first baby page then angled her head to meet his gaze. Her breath caught. Raw pain flashed through his eyes, instantly, briefly, and then it was gone. But she’d seen it. Had caught him unawares. She suddenly wanted to discover what made this man tick.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  He gave a short laugh. “About what? Not having a baby book?”

  She shrugged “It obviously bothers you.”

  “Honey, you have a lot to learn about men.” That condescending tone caused her to clench her fists and fight to keep from socking him. It made her feel foolish. And she didn’t like that feeling. Especially since he was right. What did she know about men? She’d never had a long-standing boyfriend and had only gone on a few dates. Still, he didn’t have to be so hateful.

  With a sniff she turned back to her salvaging efforts. “And you have a lot to learn about being nice to someone who wants to help.”

  He drew a ragged breath, but she refused to look again. Let him wallow in his childhood pain. She wouldn’t be his punching bag.

  “Hey.” His fingers touched her shoulder, brushing back an errant strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail.

  “What?”

  His lips curved upward into a smile. “I’m a jerk.”

  Searching his slightly self-mocking smile, she rolled her eyes and nudged him with her shoulder. “So tell me something I don’t already know.”

  A chuckle rumbled low in his chest. “Forgive me?”

  “Sure, Corrigan.”

  Amid the whirring of the fans and dehumidifiers, they stood side by side saving Denni’s memories.

  Reece couldn’t help but feel that he was invading a very private part of Denni’s life as he dabbed page after page of her baby book and set them aside to continue dryin
g. He felt, rather than saw, her chest rise as she took a shuddering breath. He glanced at the page she held. On it, a photograph of a little girl holding a baby. The handwritten caption beneath read: Denni, Always The Little Mother.

  “That was me. Always mothering anyone or anything that would let me.” She pronounced the statement as though not really speaking to him.

  “Who’s the baby?”

  She jerked her gaze to his. “What? Oh.” A smile tipped the corners of her lips. “My little sister, Keri. She just got married a few weeks ago. Guess who was her maid of honor?”

  “I’m sure you looked better than the bride. The bridesmaids always do.”

  She scowled and Reece could have kicked himself. “Yeah, well. That’s never been my experience. Believe me. And yes, I’ve been a bridesmaid more than twice—four times if you really want to know—and you know what that means.”

  Could he ever say the right thing? He glanced back at the page and sought to get her mind off the whole “three times a bridesmaid never a bride” scenario. “So you always played the little mother, eh?”

  A sigh left her and she set the page down on the table. “Yeah. I have two sisters. Keri and an older sister named Raven. I’ll probably be her bridesmaid too if she ever stops yanking around on guys’ hearts long enough to fall in love.”

  “Tell me about your sisters.” Instinctively, he knew it was the right move, knew that she needed to get something off her chest, not to mention her need to stop thinking about weddings.

  “Raven takes after our mom. Free-spirited, independent, a real heartbreaker.” She lifted a page from the table. “This is her on my graduation day.”

  “Pretty.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. Raven was and still is the beauty of the family. Keri was the cute-as-a-button baby. I was…well…I was the bossy one.” She gave a short laugh. “Mom always said I was born in the wrong order.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You know. The oldest is supposed to be the bossy, controlling one. Raven just wanted to be left alone to do her own thing. Still does.” She cut her glance to him. “Where are you in the family line?”

  Expelling a short laugh, Reece spoke before he thought.

  “Which one?”

  “Which one what?”

  A sudden image of family after family flashed across his mind like a slide show, blinking faster and faster until all of the different foster mothers and fathers and foster brothers and sisters jumbled together into one enormous group. Then they vanished and in their place one terrifying image remained. Jonathon. Standing over the only two people Reece had ever felt truly loved him. The teen’s eyes had been more wild than ever that night as he looked at Reece. “I told you, man. I told you I was going to do it.”

  Thomas and Lydia Ide. The only two grownups he’d ever loved. He’d called them Mom and Dad in his mind but had never given in and said it aloud. He regretted that now. It would have meant so much to Mom.

  His throat constricted. He coughed into his fist, trying to ease the ache.

  “It’s getting late. I’ll be back in the morning to help move the furniture outside. It’s supposed to be sunny all day tomorrow. If everyone pitches in, you should be ready for lunch guests on Monday.”

  Her soft brown eyes clouded in disappointment. She squared her shoulders and respected his need to change the subject. “I appreciate all you did today, Reece. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

  Reece nodded, but turned away. He didn’t want to be drawn in by soft sentiments. There were too many emotions bombarding him at the moment as it was. The objective was to gain her trust, not lose his heart.

  Denni heard the door open slowly then click shut. She glanced at the digital readout on the clock next to her bed and sighed—12:18 a.m. Fran again.

  Closing her book, she set it aside and pushed back the quilt. She walked down the steps, the soft glow from the kitchen alerting her to Fran’s whereabouts.

  The muted sound of the refrigerator shutting made her smile. It reminded her of nights when she and her sisters would come in after dates. There was always an ice-cream powwow around the table.

  She stepped into the kitchen. “So, you waited up just like a mommy, huh?”

  Reality crashed the party in the form of Fran’s sarcastic tone. Her tiny frame leaned against the counter. She munched on a slice of leftover pizza, and sipped a can of cola.

  “Not exactly like a mother,” Denni said, not allowing her tone to betray her irritation. “More like a concerned friend.”

  A short laugh from the girl brought a frown to Denni’s brow. “What’s bothering you, Fran?”

  “Nothing.” She gulped the drink, glaring over the aluminum rim. “I just don’t know why you treat us like we’re fourteen years old. That’s all. I swear it’s almost as bad as that bat next door peeping out of her window at us every time we make a move. Like we’re always doing something wrong, or something.”

  “I don’t necessarily think you’re doing something wrong, but you know the rules of the house.” Denni observed the blond-headed girl. Gorgeous enough to have been a model if not for the perpetual sneer on her face. “You didn’t say goodbye after dinner. I was worried.”

  “Worried? About me, or worried that I won’t find a job? If all your girls aren’t productive contributors to the betterment of our great society, you might be considered a failure.”

  Taken aback, Denni grabbed a paper plate from the cabinet and helped herself to a slice of pizza to distract herself from the sudden hurt. “Come and sit with me, okay? Let’s talk about this.”

  Fran’s expression softened, but she gave a careless shrug. “Whatever.”

  “How was your day? We didn’t have a chance to talk earlier, what with cleaning the basement.” Denni would have to deal with the girl’s failure to make curfew, but not now. Not when Fran was on the defensive.

  “I didn’t find a job if that’s what you’re asking.” She slouched in the seat, propping her feet on the chair cattycornered from her.

  “I wasn’t asking.”

  Obviously, something—or someone—had slapped a huge chip on her shoulder today and she was raring for a fight. Denni refused to play into it.

  “I looked for one. Jobs just aren’t so easy to find when you don’t have a degree.”

  “I know. I could try to help you if you want me to.”

  In a flash, Fran shoved up from her chair, tipping it. It crashed to the floor. Anger flashed in her eyes as she faced Denni. “Would you get off my back? I said I’d find something.”

  Stay calm. Don’t kick her out just because she’s made you uncomfortable.

  Scared was more like it. Fran had exhibited a violent side more than once. But the tendency had never been directed at Denni or any of the girls as far as Denni knew. Slow-moving traffic, barking dogs, inattentive waitresses. All had suffered Fran’s sharp tongue.

  Denni stood and faced the shaking girl. “Fran, I know you’re trying to get a job, and I understand how frustrating it is that you can’t find anything. But I can’t allow you to treat me this way.”

  “What are you going to do, kick me out?” The girl persisted in her bravado, but Denni saw the slight tremble of her lip.

  Thank you for letting me see that, Lord.

  Without it, Denni probably would have asked her to find another place to live. Instead she stepped forward and lightly gripped Fran by her upper arms. “No, I am not going to kick you out. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

  Mouth agape, Fran stared through unbelievably blue eyes. “You’re kidding me.”

  Denni shook her head. “Of course I’m not, but we have to reestablish the rules first.”

  Fran rolled her eyes. “Figures.”

  “Especially when someone is obviously trying to hurt us, or scare us off, Fran. I want to know you girls are safe.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she muttered.

  Clamping her lips tightly, Denni dropped her
hands from Fran’s arms. “I don’t doubt your abilities to handle yourself, but the rules exist for a reason and everyone abides by them. When you’re not going to be home by curfew you have to call and let us know where you are, who you’re with and how close to being home you are at the moment. Working late is the only exception to that rule.”

  As if by divine emphasis, the lock rattled and the front door opened. A second later, Leigh came into the kitchen. Just after Reece had gone home earlier, Leigh had been called in to cover another girl’s shift at the barbecue shack where she waited tables.

  “What are you two doing up so late?”

  “Getting lectured,” Fran groused.

  “I’m sure you deserve it.” Leigh smiled to remove the sting, but Denni could see in the hardness of her eyes that she meant it. Leigh worked hard at school and at work. Her payoff was a 4.0 average and a boss who begged her to take on a management role at the restaurant. But Leigh wanted none of it. She was going to be a physical therapist and she didn’t need to be tied down to extra responsibilities and more hours at work.

  Denni could see attitude sweep over Fran, but the girl knew better than to tangle with Leigh. Abandoned before the age of ten to the streets, Leigh had survived until a police officer found her hooking at the age of fourteen. The girl knew how to take care of herself.

  “We’ll finish this in the morning,” Denni said.

  Fran nodded and stomped from the kitchen. Denni watched her go, wishing she knew what to say to make her understand that the world was not out to get her.

  “Sheesh, what’s her problem this time?” At Leigh’s irritated tone, Denni turned back to face her.

  “She missed curfew.”

  “What’s with the chair knocked over? Did she threaten you?” Leigh’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “Denni, tell me the truth.”

  Denni walked to the chair and righted it. “Of course not. She just stood up too fast and the chair fell over.” Which was true of only the barest description of the event.