Crime Scene Connection

by Deena Alexander

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Just a little sore.”

  “Here, let me check it for you.” She led him to the bathroom, took bandages and tape from the medicine cabinet and set them on the counter, then peeled the tape from the wound on his side, taking care not to rip off any skin. It looked clean. No puss, no sign of infection. But still... “It doesn’t seem too bad, but you should probably have it looked at.”

  He waved off her concern. “I’ll just keep it bandaged so it stays clean, and it’ll be fine.”

  She huffed out a breath. As much as she hated to admit it, Jace Montana was growing on her. She put antibiotic ointment on the wound, bandaged him back up and rolled his T-shirt back down.

  His stare weighed heavily, and she didn’t dare lift her gaze to his eyes. The urge to kiss him, to lose herself in his embrace, to escape for even a moment—

  She jerked back. The last thing she needed was a complication like Jace. “There. That’s the best I can do. But you should still see a doctor. You probably need a tetanus shot or something.”

  “I had one a few years ago when I stepped on a rusty nail.”

  She put the bandages away and fled the bathroom, needing space, needing to escape the heat he generated in the small room. A dull headache throbbed in her temples. She pulled the elastic band from her hair, dropped it onto the nightstand and grabbed pajama pants and a T-shirt from her drawer. She didn’t have to turn around to know he’d followed her. His presence dominated the room, making the generous space feel too small. Claustrophobia threatened. “I’m going in the bathroom to get changed.”

  She didn’t wait for a response, simply went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Then she caught her reflection in the mirror. Bloodshot and swollen eyes, puffy red cheeks, raw from wiping away more tears than she’d shed since she was a child and—

  She jerked her gaze away from the mirror. She needed a shower and some rest. And she had to push aside her feelings and bury them deep in a small corner of her heart no one would ever touch. That shouldn’t be too hard. She’d certainly had enough practice.

  And then she needed to figure out who the killer was. Jace was right. She should be able to get inside his head. After all, her book had inspired him.

  * * *

  When Addison returned to the bedroom, Jace kept his distance, not wanting her to feel cornered. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  He started toward her. “Addison—”

  “Jace, stop. Please. I don’t want your pity.” She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I can’t handle it.”

  “That’s one thing you won’t get from me.”

  She let her hands flop to her sides. “What’s that?”

  “Pity,” he whispered. He inched toward her, slowly, careful not to startle her, and stopped just short of reaching out for her, leaving only a couple of inches between them.

  She stiffened.

  He froze where he was but made no attempt to pull back. He kept his hands at his sides, though the urge to pull her into his embrace was almost impossible to resist. “I don’t pity you. I feel bad you’re having a rough time right now. I wish you trusted me enough to tell me what’s going on in your head. And I will do what I can to help you, but not out of pity.”

  “Don’t you have something better to do?”

  He ignored the flash of anger in her eyes in favor of the pain that raged beneath it.

  His preconceived image of her, based on her affiliation not only with Maris but with Brandon, as well, had been way off. He’d never expected her strength, her compassion or her courage. The fire in her eyes touched him in a way nothing else had in a long time. He’d sorely underestimated Addison Keller.

  “Women are dying because of me,” she whispered.

  “They are not dying because of you. They’re dying because someone is killing them.” And he had every intention of finding out who that someone was and stopping him. “There’s a difference.”

  “Oh, really? Because I’m having a hard time seeing it.” She lowered her gaze and shook her head.

  “You suspect him, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. Not really. He could see the truth in her eyes a fraction of a second before she averted her gaze. “Brandon. You think he has something to do with this.”

  She shrugged.

  “Why? Because you actually think he’s involved, or because you want to see him put away? Because you have some reason to believe he killed these women or because you’re afraid of him and want him behind bars where he can’t hurt you?” He approached slowly. When she didn’t retreat, he smoothed back a few strands of hair that had fallen into her face.

  The bruise Brandon had left on her face stood out starkly against her pale skin. He couldn’t deny wanting justice for himself, but he was beginning to want it for Addison more. He cleared his throat, anger that Brandon had ever gotten close to her nearly choking him.

  She lowered her gaze. “It would be just like him. To find what I love and take it from me, sully it, ruin it. Turn it into something sick and evil and twisted. Like him.” She finished on the softest whisper of sound. “But he...”

  “But he what?”

  “Nothing.”

  Her pulse fluttered beneath his lingering touch. “Talk to me, Addison. Let me help. Please.”

  She shook her head but held his gaze. Her green eyes darkened.

  He cradled the back of her head and moved closer. The longing that had first flared in the car rushed back full force. The need to have her in his arms, to keep her close to him, to reassure himself she was safe. To protect her.

  He backed up. What was he thinking? “I’m sorry, I...”

  She shook her head. “It’s okay. I just, I...can’t... I—”

  “It’s all right. You don’t have to explain.” He struggled for control. What was wrong with him? Her vulnerability tugged at him relentlessly. But how could he ask for her trust when he’d failed the last woman who’d trusted him so miserably? He didn’t deserve someone like Addison, or anyone, really.

  “I just think—”

  He held up his hands and backed into the doorway. “I won’t deny I’m attracted to you, Addison.” Total understatement. “You’re a beautiful woman. Inside and out.”

  Her cheeks flared bright red.

  “But I promise to keep my hands...and my lips...to myself.” He grinned. “Deal?”

  She nodded, her smile tentative.

  “You’re even more beautiful when you smile, you know.”

  Shaking her head, she laughed. “You’re not off to a good start.”

  “You’re right. I’ll do better. Promise.” He winked and turned to go. A good run with Phoenix, right after he checked in with Connor, would put things back in perspective.

  “Jace?”

  He stopped and turned back to her. “Yeah?”

  She stood with her arms folded, hugging herself tightly. “What would happen if you did take Brandon down?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What would you do?” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if freezing, but her gaze remained fully focused on him. “Would you go back to the police force?”

  He got the distinct impression his answer mattered to her. A lot. “Being a cop is all I’ve ever truly wanted to do, Addison. It’s who I am. I can’t change that.”

  She nodded and turned away.

  Jace resisted the urge to go to her, to comfort her and tell her everything would be okay. He had no idea how things would turn out. And he’d never lie to her. So he walked away, her intense distrust of anyone in an SCPD uniform his dreaded companion.

  THIRTEEN

  Desperate for air, Addison yanked the pillow off her head then turned over and bolted upright. Her legs tangled in the blanket and
sheet, and she tugged wildly, frantic to free herself.

  The bedroom door flung open and Phoenix scrambled toward the bed.

  “Hold on.” Jace put his hands over hers. “Let me help.”

  She stilled, yanking her hand back, but allowing him a moment to free her from the tangle of covers. As soon as he did, she staggered to her feet.

  Jace opened the window, letting the cool breeze wash over her.

  She stumbled across the room and rested her hands on the sill, then lowered her head between her arms. She’d have to remember to put the screen back in, but, for now, she needed the freedom the open window brought. At least it chased away the worst of the claustrophobia. Her heart hammered painfully, and she rubbed her chest in an effort to ease the ache, knowing it wouldn’t help. It never did.

  She let her eyes fall shut, inhaling deeply, filling her lungs with the scents of salt and pine. The scents of home. Of comfort. The images that plagued her nightmares played out on the backs of her lids, and her eyes shot open.

  Strong hands landed on her shoulders.

  She jerked away and spun toward him.

  Jace lifted his hands and kept them where she could see them. “It’s all right, Addison. I won’t hurt you. You’re safe, now, but I need you to move away from the window, okay?”

  “Don’t you get it?” She’d worked so hard to put her life back together. And she wanted more, wanted to step out of the shadows and become part of the community, make friends, get married, raise a family, adopt a puppy. Could she do all of that with Jace? Detective Montana of the SCPD? Her heart stuttered. “I’ll never be safe. He’ll never let me have a life.”

  “Talk to me. Let me help you.”

  She shook her head. What could he do? No one could take on Brandon and win. She should have realized that. Not that she hadn’t known it all along in her head, but she’d allowed herself the delusion of being able to beat him. And now she had a killer on her heels, as well.

  “Do you honestly think Brandon is to blame for the murders?”

  She had no clue. She turned back to the view out the window. Night had fallen while she’d slept, and moonlight spilled across the yard. Branches swayed in the soft sea breeze. The scene should offer the illusion of safety, of peace. It didn’t.

  Phoenix nudged her hand with his head and sat beside her.

  She twined her fingers into his soft fur, taking the comfort he offered.

  “Why don’t you go back to bed? You didn’t sleep very long.”

  She took a step toward him, intent on slipping into his arms, then stemmed the instinctive reaction. The fact that she wanted his comfort, wanted desperately to sink into his embrace and allow him to chase away her fears was dangerous. That fear might be the only thing that would keep her alive, might be the one thing that would motivate her enough to do anything she had to in order to protect Maris. “Why bother? It’s not like I could sleep anyway.”

  “Okay, then, there’s something else we need to talk about, something I think might help you stop the nightmares.” He gestured toward the chair. “Why don’t you sit down?”

  She started to protest, but the grim expression on his face stopped her. “What happened?”

  She perched on the edge of the seat, ready to bolt if she didn’t like where this conversation headed.

  “Nothing happened, exactly. But one of Connor’s men uncovered an old murder that seemed...similar to the first murder in your book and the first real murder.” He narrowed his eyes, obviously expecting some sort of reaction from her.

  “So?”

  He huffed out a breath and propped his hands on his hips, then studied her intently. With a sigh, he squatted in front of her and took her hands in his. “It was your mother’s murder, Addison.”

  A strangled cry escaped before she could stop it.

  Jace squeezed her hands, lending her his strength. “Do you remember anything about that day?”

  She shook her head, because she couldn’t remember. If she allowed herself, she might remember everything with vivid clarity, but it was a reminiscence she couldn’t dare indulge in. If she did, she’d no longer be able to deny the truth. A giant wall slammed down on her mind, halting even the slightest thought of the past. Was that sinful? Did “Thou shalt not lie” include lying to herself? Forgive me, Lord.

  She shot to her feet. “It was a long time ago.”

  Jace stepped back. “I think you could still remember if you tried.”

  She backed away from him. She needed the feel of his strong arms around her. She had to get away from him. “I said I don’t remember.”

  “Talk to me, Addison. Please. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. Please. Tell me something. Anything.”

  “I can’t tell you what I don’t remember.” Images battered her defenses. She turned away from them.

  “Addison—”

  “I appreciate you trying to help, but I need you to leave now.” Before I lose myself in you. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she trusted someone, trusted Jace, but she had to stay away from him. His feelings showed plainly in his expression. He was beginning to care for her. And she appreciated that he respected her enough to rein in his emotions. “I don’t—”

  “Please, Addison. Let me help. Talk to me.”

  She pressed her back against the cool wall. What did she have to offer him? Her life was a mess. He’d already been shot because of her, and chances were if he hung around, he’d end up hurt again. Or worse. Jace was a man who met danger head-on to protect those he cared about. She prayed for the strength to resist him. She had to resist him if she was going to keep him safe.

  “Tell me. Please.”

  She lowered her gaze from his and squeezed her eyes closed. For the first time, she lowered the wall she’d built to protect herself from the truth. Memories pummeled her, unexpectedly familiar since she’d been dreaming about them for most of her life. “He came into the house.”

  “Who did?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  The memory was there, the soft sound of an intruder’s footsteps when no one else should have been home, but she couldn’t put a face to the person. At least, not yet. That image was either buried deeper than the rest or didn’t exist. “We were in the kitchen. We were going to spend the weekend together, just the two of us. We were going to bake and had just started getting everything out when we heard the footsteps crossing the living room floor.”

  Jace seemed to hold his breath, waiting for her response, but remained silent.

  She couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. She’d have welcomed the distraction, just one more way to avoid what she’d already avoided for too long.

  “My mother opened the bottom cabinet where she kept the pans, pulled them out and pushed me inside. She whispered, ‘Stay quiet no matter what, and don’t come out. I love you, princess,’ and closed the door. Those were the last words she ever said to me.”

  Tears poured down her cheeks, but she made no move to wipe them away. Her mother deserved those tears.

  She’d peeked then, through the tiniest sliver of space where she’d cracked the cabinet door open. She could see his feet, his legs. “He asked if anyone else was home.”

  Tremors shook her. Her legs went rubbery, almost giving out.

  Jace wrapped his arms around her, holding her up, willing her to be strong.

  “She said no. She lied to him. The last words she ever said were a lie. A lie to protect me.” The thought tortured her, had even then. Because even at three, she’d known lying was wrong. Her mom had instilled that in her. “She was a good woman, a good mother. But her last words were a lie. Do you think God forgave her that? Think He’d have offered the reward of Heaven when her last words were a lie? A sin?”

  Sobs racked her body. Pain pierced her heart.


  Jace smoothed her hair, soothing, comforting. “Yes, I do. It seems to me, the woman you’ve described would have prayed for forgiveness even as she uttered the lie, even as she prayed for God to protect her child, to save you. He answered one. Why not the other?”

  She searched his expression. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Of course I do.”

  Hope surged through her. She stared deep into his eyes and found only honesty. “Thank you for that, Jace.”

  She should have realized that on her own. God always forgave. It was people who had a hard time pardoning, as she’d done with Maris. She’d thought she’d stopped resenting her sister, but had she, truly, deep in her heart? And at the end of the day, what was there to forgive? Maybe her problem wasn’t in forgiving Maris but in forgiving herself. It was easier to hold Maris responsible for doing what Addison should have had the courage to do, to hold on to her anger toward a woman who’d only tried to help her, rather than to face the truth, accept responsibility and seek to absolve herself.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll take care of you, Addison. I’ll keep you safe. And we will get to the bottom of this.”

  She nodded against him, her tears spilling freely, grateful he hadn’t pushed her beyond what she was ready to face.

  “We’ll figure it all out.” He held her like that while she cried, waiting with all the patience in the world while years of pent-up emotions poured out of her.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered against him. Sorry she’d given him such a hard time in the beginning, sorry she hadn’t trusted him, sorry he’d been hurt because of her, sorry she’d held him at arm’s length when he’d tried to comfort her.

  He smoothed a hand over her hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  * * *

  Jace waited while she collected herself, enjoying the feel of her safely cocooned in his embrace where nothing could touch her. Reality would intrude soon enough and he’d have to let her go, but for just a moment, he could give her this, could take it for himself.