Trust went both ways, and when it came to her heart, Piper couldn’t risk Luke with it again. But every day was a struggle. Could she survive a weekend with him? “I can handle it alone.” She had to.
Luke rubbed his forehead. “You think you can, but you can’t.”
“So you’re calling me weak?” She ground her teeth. “Maybe once, but not anymore.”
“Not physically, but, Piper, we’re all weak. We only have so much strength in ourselves.” Jamming his fingers in his hair, he raked through it, leaving it disheveled. “Think about it, okay?”
Luke had a point. Each disaster wore her thinner from the inside out. Having some support when she stepped foot into her home would be reassuring, especially someone on good terms with God. Piper slid into her seat and turned the ignition. But Luke? Even now, she wanted to smooth down his tousled hair and inhale his fresh clean scent. She might be allowing him to protect her physically, but emotionally she was cracking.
“I...I don’t know.”
“If it’s as big a mess as Mama Jean’s, you’ll need another hand.” He wiggled his fingers. “I have two of them.”
She let a smirk slip. “Luke... I—”
“I’ll get a hotel room. No worries about sleeping arrangements.”
Sleeping arrangements had nothing to do with it. It was how she felt when they were awake. Tapping the steering wheel, she batted the idea back and forth. It would be lonely. And if he got a call about Harmony, Piper would be right there with him.
“If...if you really don’t mind, I guess I can wait another day. The police have most of my information. Just need a few signatures on reports.”
Luke’s shoulders relaxed, and he laid a firm but gentle hand on her forearm. Part of her wanted to cave and lean into him, draw from his strength. But for how long? What would she do when she went back to Jackson permanently? There was no point getting used to depending on him this way.
Piper could rely on only one person. Herself.
She gave a half smile and fixated on the steering wheel. Luke was nothing but a helping hand and a pipeline for information on the case. That was all it could be.
Luke’s hand slipped from her arm. “Good. Whatever you need done, I’ll fix. Promise.”
“I don’t want to even think about it right now.” She’d already done so much work on the house.
Luke clutched the hood and leaned into the car, stopped her and held her gaze. “Just because our history isn’t one for the movies doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or that I won’t pray for you, because I will. I am.”
Piper clamped down on her bottom lip to hide the quivering. Luke had always seemed to stay strong by standing on his faith. But then, Luke was a good guy. He didn’t have Piper’s shaky past attached like a looming shadow everywhere he walked.
“Thank you,” she managed.
“We’ll leave first thing Saturday morning. In the meantime, don’t go hunting down Boone alone. I couldn’t— Just don’t go all Crouching Tiger, okay?” The corner of his mouth turned up, but his eyes held a swirl of emotion. What was he going to say? He couldn’t what?
Might be better if she never knew the end of that sentence.
* * *
“Hey, man, you look like the baked potato I ate earlier,” Eric quipped.
Luke wrinkled his nose. “Starchy?”
“Overcooked. You sleeping?” Eric sat at his desk—across from Luke—gnawing on a strawberry Twizzler. Weird vice.
Luke squeezed an orange tension ball in his fist and released, then repeated. He’d been living off coffee and oatmeal cream pies. Tomorrow, he and Piper were driving to Jackson to reassemble her house and hopefully unearth a few clues that might give them another space to move on the board.
At the moment, they couldn’t find Boone Wiley or Derone Johnson. They’d done a search on blue vans, but without a plate number it was a joke.
“Is the case bothering you or the fact that you still care about her?”
It was both. Eating him alive. He touched her and a memory materialized. Smelled her shampoo, a longing filled his gut. Didn’t matter how hard he worked to bury it, protective instincts had surfaced, and Piper consumed every spare second that cropped up in his mind. Torturing himself, he wondered what their life might have been like. They’d be married. Have children. A stabbing sensation filtered from his heart into his ribs, needling each one.
“I want to find something that I can work with. Let’s go to Riverbend and have a chat with Sly Watson.”
Eric chucked his empty Twizzlers bag in the trash. “He never once gave up any of the others who worked the Strosbergen home with him. Why would he talk now? Especially if he’s in on it.”
“What if Sly is behind it all?” He might not be able to search on the outside, but Boone could be his hands and feet. “Sly might have even told Boone about Harmony, and Boone pretended to be into her to get information. Piper said Harmony’s downfall was picking crummy men to date.”
Rolling his cuffs, Eric nodded. “I guess we can give it a shot. I can do that thing I do.”
“Jedi mind trick?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Maybe I should go alone.” Luke chuckled. “But first I wanna talk to Kerr in the theft unit again.” If his gut was right, the past was back. And that was why he needed to run it down with Kerr.
“The old partner?”
“The one and only.”
“I hope he has some answers. You’re looking enervated.”
Luke arched an eyebrow. “Enervated?”
Eric lifted a flip pad off his desk. “It’s my smart word for the day. Getting it in when I can. It means not having any physical strength.”
“I know what it means.”
Laughing, Eric shook the licorice stick at him. “No, you don’t.”
Okay, he didn’t. “You worried about my health?” Luke teased.
“I’m worried if someone shoots at us, you won’t have the strength to raise a gun to save my behind.”
Luke slapped Eric’s back and headed to the theft division, to meet with Kerr. Time hadn’t robbed him of his physique or the same crew cut from his military days.
“Hey, hey, my man.” Kerr gave him the guy hug, shaking his hand and pulling him in while clapping his back a couple of times with the other. “What brings you down here twice in one week?”
“Still working on that case that might connect to Chaz Michaels and his ring.”
Kerr inhaled and shook his head. “I wish we would’ve found that scum.” He motioned Luke to have a seat. “Or did you? Dead? Alive?”
Luke crossed his foot over his knee. He filled Kerr in on everything that had transpired since they’d last talked. “Something went down that night. Maybe money was lifted. Whatever it was, it’s enough to trash homes, hurt innocents and murder people.” Luke leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “What do you think?”
“I think that Piper Kennedy has you loopy again. And you’re searching for any way possible to pin this on someone other than her.” Kerr pointed to him. “I’m not saying she killed anyone, but she’s withholding information and possibly hiding something...like a large chunk of change. How did she pay for her dojo?”
Tension thumped in Luke’s temples and at the base of his neck. “She took out a business loan. Had a few thousand to put down, but that could have come from her grandmother.”
“Did you ask the grandma?”
“No.” He was afraid she’d say she hadn’t given Piper any money. “But I will.” He had no choice. “She promises she’s innocent.”
“So does everyone who’s guilty. She gave us a false address, and while we were staking out the wrong home, she took part in a robbery across town that almost ended Ellen Strosbergen’s life.”
Lu
ke had been humiliated. New to the job. Hand-fed false info. The jokes had never ended, some of them raunchy and cruel.
“I mean, allegedly took part. I never actually saw who I was chasing down. Chaz. Tyson. Doesn’t matter now.” Kerr shook his head. “I hate we lost that one.”
Luke’s fault.
Piper had never admitted to being inside the house. Either way, she’d lied to save Chaz Michaels. Said she was leaving that life behind for Luke. Chaz was gone, and Luke had a ring with no finger to place it on.
“If I can think of anything, I’ll call you. But, Luke, wise up. I said it then and I’ll say it now. You didn’t work her. She worked you. Don’t think for a second she won’t do it again.”
Luke nodded but couldn’t form a word. Kerr might be right, but deep in his marrow, he couldn’t believe it. God, can I trust her? I’m scared.
“You pull the old case files?”
“Yeah,” Luke rasped. “Over a week ago. I’ve been mowing through them. So far I haven’t picked up on anything new. But I’ll keep digging.” If Piper had lied to him and was immersed in this, he wouldn’t tell her to run; he’d have to arrest her.
“I hear you’re up for a promotion. Congratulations.”
Luke grinned. He’d worked tirelessly making arrests, closing cases. Right now he was teetering on the edge. Piper was already breaking down his defenses. She knew about Holt’s undercover work, for crying out loud. “Thanks.” He shook Kerr’s hand.
“Don’t need a case that links to theft to visit an old friend.”
“You’re right.” Luke left and called Eric to let him know he was on his way. Time to see what Sly Watson had to say. Chances were he’d give him squat, but he had to try. Anything to bring closure to the past and solve the present homicides.
Inside the precinct, Luke met Eric by the elevator.
“What’s going on?”
“Remember when you wanted to see if Sly would shank Boone by coughing up some information? Yeah...tables got turned. Sly Watson got himself shanked. He’s in surgery. But they say he’ll make it.”
“You think it has anything to do with our case?”
“It’s fishy. But Riverbend is out at least until Monday.”
Eric looked behind Luke’s shoulder, eyes wide. Luke turned. Piper stepped off the elevator. “Piper, what’s wrong? What are you doing here? I thought you were at the rehab center with Mama Jean.”
“I was. I thought I’d come by and see if you have anything new.” She rubbed her hands together. Fidgety. Instinct said wrap her in his arms, calm her and reassure her things would be okay. But that would be a lie. And dragging her close wouldn’t be smart.
He checked his watch. “You eaten anything?” A couple of hours to keep her mind off things wouldn’t kill them, and he didn’t have to embrace her to eat a meal. Plus, if she was with him, he wouldn’t worry about something happening to her. “I’m running on fumes.”
Eric cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, I’m fully tanked. That came out wrong, but you know what I mean. I’ll man the fort here and call if anything’s progressed.”
Piper nodded. “I guess I could eat. And I’m...” She blinked several times, as if trying to hold back tears. Luke had rarely seen Piper cry. She was on the edge but didn’t want to admit it. And he couldn’t blame her. They were turning up dead ends and Chaz was like a shadow. Luke was anxious, too.
“We’ll get something other than hospital or rehab-center food,” Luke said.
“Hey, the hospital has great food. Sometimes I go just for lunch.” Eric blinked at Luke with innocent eyes. “What? It’s true.”
Luke shook his head and led Piper into the elevator.
“What sounds good?”
“I’m not the one who’s on fumes. You tell me.”
Once, they’d loved to eat fried chicken at Gus’s. Would that bring up too many memories? Hitting a neutral location might be the best option.
“We could go to Gus’s. I’m due.” Piper’s lips turned up in a sheepish grin. “But if you want something else, I can eat anything.”
Luke’s throat turned to sandpaper. “No...no, that sounds perfect.”
SIX
The radio filtered a classic-rock station inside Piper’s car. Outside, the Saturday morning was clear. The sky shone robin’s-egg blue and it appeared God had painted the clouds with a spray can of whipped cream. God. Was He just a powerful being in the sky, bringing each day and watching over the world? Mama Jean talked as if they knew each other on a one-on-one basis. Talked every day. Of course, what wrong had Mama Jean ever done? Naturally, she and God were friends.
Luke drew his long legs up and then pushed them out again.
“You want to stop and walk a minute?”
“Nah. We’re almost there now. Unless you want to.”
“I’m fine.” Piper kept her eyes on the road as Luke shifted in the passenger seat.
Comfortable silence enveloped the interior. Last night at Gus’s they’d forged through the awkwardness over spicy fried chicken, mashed potatoes with savory brown gravy, sliced white bread and sweet tea. They’d taken measured steps to dance around their prior relationship and why it had ended. Instead, they’d talked about Luke’s preference for the homicide unit over theft, Mama Jean and her recovery and Piper’s martial-arts competitions, including the last one in Bangkok.
Getting over the hump made the drive south to Jackson bearable, but a minuscule ripple of tension lay under the surface of their words and now their silence.
Piper turned left at the light and entered an older neighborhood with large oaks sheltering the seventies-style homes. From the corner of her eye, she caught Luke studying his surroundings.
“It reminds me of Mama Jean,” she said. “The older homes. When I left... I missed her so much that when I could afford a place, I chose a fixer-upper.” She missed Luke terribly, too, but that wasn’t going to air from her mouth. “I’ve done a lot of work, but it’s not finished yet.”
Luke shifted in the tan leather seat, his eyes revealing the compassion she’d loved about him. “I never meant for you to leave Mama Jean. I—”
“That’s my house on the right with the carport.” Piper couldn’t go back to that time. Not now. Maybe not ever. She’d buried the memories. Those words. That pain. She’d poured it out with every punch, every kick and every kata.
Luke stroked the stubble around his cheeks and chin. “I like it.” A frail tone filtered his words.
“I dread going in.” She swallowed hard and sighed. “That’s Ms. Wells. She’s the one who called the police.” Piper pointed to the older woman with rollers in her hair, shuffling over. Piper and Luke stepped out of the car, and Piper popped the trunk. “Hi, Ms. Wells. Thank you so much for calling the police. Sorry for the drama.”
The woman’s steps were slow, but her mind was sharp and her green eyes flashed bright and clear. “Honey, I’m so glad you were gone when this happened. I took Tootsie for her morning walk, checked your mail, and when I walked in the kitchen I nearly had me a come-apart.”
“You don’t know how relieved I am that he was gone before you went inside.” Piper cleared her throat as Ms. Wells eyed Luke. “Detective Luke Ransom, meet Ms. Frances Wells.”
Luke shared a welcoming smile with her neighbor and shook her hand. “Very nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Glad Piper has a nice strong man by her side. But I can call Bubba to come if you like? It’s a real mess.” Ms. Wells had been trying to smash Piper and her grandson together for a year. Bubba was a decent guy, but he just didn’t do it for her.
“I think we can manage.”
“You need anything, anything at’tall, you holler.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Time to face the heap. “Well, come on. I’ll give you the two-cent tour.” For
cing a grin, Piper ambled toward the side door that led into the kitchen. She opened the screen door, then unlocked the wooden one.
“Piper, it’s okay to be emotional.” Luke rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. She shifted it off. No time to sink underneath it and fall apart.
Inside, it smelled of mulberry from the potpourri she’d burned before going to Memphis, but the wreckage sent pinpricks behind her eyes. A mountain rose in her throat. “This was the kitchen.”
Dishes had been swiped from the new oak cabinets she’d installed and painted white. Shards of glass dotted the laminate hardwood flooring. With a shaky breath, she maneuvered through the mess and into the dining area that opened from the kitchen. Just a table with four chairs. Untouched.
Sliding glass doors opened into a small fenced-in backyard. The stick she kept in the sliding door track to keep intruders out lay near the baseboards. “I can’t believe I forgot to shove that joker in the track. Cops said that’s how he entered.”
“I’m sure the call about Mama Jean had you shook up. Not thinking straight.”
Piper flexed her fingers. “Doesn’t matter. If a person wants in a house, they’re getting in.”
Luke’s eyebrows rose, but instead of throwing words in her face and reminding her that she ought to know that better than anyone, he probed the house like a detective. Or was he once again giving her some space to process? Probably both.
Staring into her modest living room, Piper’s shoulders slumped. The couch, matching oversize chair and ottoman lay upside down, gutted like pigs. Outside the picture windows, Ms. Wells walked her Yorkie-poo, Tootsie.
“Piper? You holdin’ up?” Luke’s husky tone reached her ears, but she couldn’t utter a syllable.
No. No, she was not.
This was her home.
Violated.
She crept down the hall to her left. Pictures of sunrises, sunsets and rolling hills were crooked. Straight ahead, the medicine cabinet hung off the wall in the bathroom, and the linen closet had been eviscerated. Towels, washrags and blankets littered the green-and-yellow linoleum. Choking back sobs, she knelt and clutched a fluffy pink rag.
Fatal Reunion Page 7
