Alibi

by Nicole Edwards

  That left him with no more excuses to put off seeing the man of the hour.

  When he knocked on Travis’s door, he was met with a less-than-friendly, “What do you want?”

  Opening the door, he stepped inside. It would’ve been easy to ask Travis if he had a minute, but Brantley didn’t care whether he did or not. As far as he was concerned, Travis was going to make time to talk, because this particular topic couldn’t be put off.

  Instantly he felt shitty for not giving Travis advance notice of his arrival. The pure hope that radiated from the man made his stomach hurt.

  “No news yet,” he prefaced. “I just came to talk about somethin’ I heard this mornin’.”

  Travis’s face fell as he leaned back in his chair and regarded Brantley with what looked a lot like disappointment.

  When his cousin didn’t suggest he sit, Brantley did so anyway.

  “Rumor has it you’re talkin’ to Max Adorite.”

  Travis’s expression remained passive. “Max and I are friends. Why?”

  Brantley chose his words carefully. “You and I both know what Max does for a livin’.”

  There was no comment.

  “And I figure it’s safe to assume one of his specialties might come in handy at a time like this.”

  Still nothing.

  “Travis…” Brantley exhaled. “I’ll be straight with you. I know you’d like to see that bitch in the ground—”

  “That’s where she belongs,” Travis snapped, leaning forward and slamming his palms on the desk.

  “I don’t disagree with you.” He kept his eyes locked with Travis’s. “Keep in mind, there are a lot of eyes on this right now. Not only local law enforcement but also the feds. Not to mention the media.”

  “What do you want from me, Brantley?” Travis’s eyes narrowed. “It’s been forty-two days since my wife was murdered. Forty-two days that you and your team have been searchin’ for the woman responsible. That’s forty-two days longer than I care for.”

  Brantley knew there was nothing he could say to that. It was true. They’d been working day and night—for far longer than forty-two days—utilizing all the tools they had to find the woman. As much as he would’ve preferred Juliet Prince be an idiot, she was proving to have some skills. At the very least, a very strong survival instinct.

  “It’s time we finish this,” Travis continued. “Once and for all.”

  It was obvious Travis wasn’t referring to having the woman arrested and spending God only knows how long waiting for her to be found guilty by a jury of her peers. And because it was hanging in the tension-filled air, Brantley decided to broach it as straightforward as he knew how.

  “I get it,” he said softly. “I really do. No, I haven’t lost a spouse, but I have lost people I was close to. The rage, once it kicks in, it burns hot. And trust me when I tell you, I’d be thinkin’ the same thing if I lost Reese.”

  Travis’s eyes narrowed slightly, almost imperceptibly. As though he’d been gearing up to argue but changed his mind.

  “I haven’t been with him for seven years or even seven months, but I love him. Hell, I’d give my life for his. So we’re on the same page there. What we’re not on the same page with is how you go about this.”

  To his surprise, Travis didn’t speak.

  “You mentioned needin’ an alibi before. You and I both know you weren’t blowin’ smoke up my ass. What I need is for you to remember you have a husband and five kids at home, Travis. Five. They’re already sufferin’ enough. Don’t make it worse.”

  “Then I suggest you find her.”

  “I intend to,” he bit out, getting to his feet. “And when I do, you’ll be able to tell your children she got what she deserved. Just stay out of it. Take care of the ones who need you most right now. Let us deal with this.”

  Brantley didn’t wait for a retort, knowing he wouldn’t like whatever Travis had to say. He’d said his piece.

  Now it was time he did something to prove to Travis he could be trusted to take care of shit.

  After Brantley left, Travis could hear conversations taking place in the hall outside his office. He wasn’t sure if it was his cousin chatting with others or if it was merely business taking place. It didn’t matter to him either way, so he didn’t bother to get up to see if they needed his help. Rather, he remained in his chair, staring out the window overlooking the outdoor space still glittering with ice as he tried to figure out what he’d ever found appealing about this place.

  Alluring Indulgence Resort had been his baby. He could still remember back in the planning phase, before the enormous structure ever got off the ground. He remembered conversations with the city council, the mayor, and the residents whose land was adjacent to where he wanted to build. It had been exciting back then, an endeavor unlike anything he’d ever done before.

  He honestly expected he would always be in love with it, find comfort within the walls. Over the years, he’d opened it up for family gatherings, utilizing the space to accommodate all who wanted to come. And yes, he’d made a lot of money from the idea and had invested just as much.

  For what?

  What the fuck had he accomplished by creating a fetish resort? Hell, if he had to guess, he’d ruined more lives than not. All those people who’d come here seeking an experience they couldn’t find anywhere else. Did they go home satisfied? If so, how long had it lasted? Was there a long list of disgruntled spouses who wished Travis and his family dead?

  He swallowed down the emotion that still lodged in his throat when he thought about his beautiful Kylie.

  Turning in his chair, he stared at the picture of her on his desk.

  “I miss you, baby,” he whispered, the same as he did every single day. He prayed to a God he wasn’t on good terms with, willing him to take care of her now. Everyone knew Travis had failed in doing so.

  A knock on his door dragged his attention from the photograph. “Yeah. Come in.”

  The door opened and Gage strolled in.

  Travis immediately sat up straight, surprised to see him.

  “Kaleb needs those forms signed.”

  No greeting, no smile, just right to the point. Exactly as things had been for the past month, more so since he’d revealed that letter Kylie had left for them.

  Travis pushed the pile of papers in Gage’s direction. “Anything else?”

  There was fire in Gage’s brown eyes when he met Travis’s gaze. “No.”

  Nodding because he knew it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good to pick a fight, Travis leaned back and waited for Gage to leave. If the past few weeks were anything to go by, he wouldn’t be sticking around to strike up a conversation. Hell, they hadn’t said more than ten words at a time to one another since they buried their wife. Unless, of course, it pertained to the kids, but even those conversations were light on words.

  Oh, but they’d done some silent communicating. Sex had become Gage’s go-to topic. Every time Travis turned around, there his husband was, eager and ready for some down and dirty, angry sex. Of course, Travis hadn’t bothered to tell Gage he didn’t appreciate being used. Hell no. Why would he go and do something stupid like that? And risk Gage turning his back on him for good?

  No, these days, Travis found himself waiting around, almost desperate for that little bit of physical contact because it was the only time he felt even remotely human. The rest of the time, he was simply going through the motions, feeling empty, bitter, and cold.

  Just as he predicted, Gage turned and strolled back to the door, those fucking forms in hand. When he reached it, he paused for a second, glancing back over his shoulder. “You need to go by your parents’ after work. Pick up Maddox.”

  “Will do,” he replied, just as he did every other time Gage issued an order.

  Gage nodded, then disappeared.

  When he was alone once again, Travis glanced at Kylie’s photograph, and not for the first time, he wished she was here to take care of Gage and the kids. They deserv
ed that. They deserved her.

  Instead, they were stuck with him and he was doing a shitty job.

  Two hours later, Travis was pulling into his parents’ driveway. All the lights were on in their two-story farmhouse with its wraparound porch, but there were no extra vehicles parked nearby. Being that it was Saturday, he had expected at least one of his brothers to be there, probably with a kid or two in tow.

  Instead, he found his father sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch, coat and boots on, an insulated travel mug on the little square table beside him, steam coming out of the lid.

  “Hey, Pop. You come outside for some peace and quiet? Or just to freeze your ass off?”

  Curtis smiled, continuing to rock in his chair. “Your mama kicked me out. She insisted I was the reason Mad won’t eat his peas. Said every time he looked at me, he’d spit ’em out.”

  “That true?”

  His father chuckled. “Maybe.” Another laugh followed, this one a bit louder. “He thinks it’s a game.”

  Of course he did. Travis knew his father enjoyed getting the munchkins riled up from time to time. He claimed it was a grandfather’s right.

  “Have a seat,” Curtis instructed.

  “I can’t stay.”

  His father looked up, met his gaze. “Have a seat,” he said more firmly.

  Travis found it interesting that he was forty-two years old—a grown man for quite some time—yet when his father told him to do something, it was like he was ten all over again.

  With a resigned sigh, he lowered himself into the other chair and relaxed almost instantly. Not because he was comfortable but because he knew he had a slight reprieve. Although he loved his kids more than life itself, he dreaded going home these days. He didn’t want to be anywhere else, but he hated the tension that seemed to follow him. It was affecting everyone.

  “How’re things at work?”

  “Fine.”

  His father continued to rock in his chair and Travis waited patiently for him to get to what he wanted to chat about. Clearly something was on his mind.

  “How’re things at home?”

  That question wasn’t so easy to answer. “As good as can be expected.”

  “I saw the pictures of the snowman.”

  Travis nodded, stared out into the twilight. “Snowmommy.”

  Curtis peered over at him. “What now?”

  “Kate called it a snowmommy. She dressed it up in Kylie’s things.”

  He could feel his father’s eyes on him, but Travis didn’t look over. It wasn’t like he could explain her reasoning for wanting it.

  Silence descended for a minute or two as Travis stared out at the yard, the big oak tree. Nothing was nearly as vibrant as it had once been, even if it still looked the same. Well, mostly. The snow that remained beneath the tree wasn’t something he was used to seeing, but he’d gotten an eyeful this past week. Enough to last him another four decades if he was lucky.

  “I talked to Reese again today,” Curtis finally relayed.

  He looked over, his chest suddenly devoid of air. “I’m sorry, what? What do you mean again?”

  “He’s been keepin’ me updated on the investigation.”

  Travis leaned forward, prepared to get to his feet, but stopped when his father barked for him to sit his ass down.

  “Pop, I don’t have time for this. I don’t wanna hear about Reese or Brantley or whatever—”

  “They think they’ve received a valid tip.”

  Clearly he’d been wrong about not having air in his lungs, because that statement sent it out of him in a mad rush. Considering Brantley had been in his fucking office just a few hours ago and hadn’t said a damn thing about it…

  “Where is she?” he asked when his head stopped spinning.

  “They haven’t been told yet. His brother’s apparently keepin’ it close to the vest until they’ve vetted it.” Curtis peered over. “My guess is they don’t trust Brantley not to go after her.”

  They didn’t trust Brantley? Or they didn’t trust Travis?

  “Why’d Reese share this with you and not me?”

  “He calls me every coupla days, fills me in. Most of the time it’s nothin’, but he seems upbeat about this one. Said it’s worth pursuin’.”

  Travis had more questions—like when were they going to get confirmation?—but he couldn’t force words past the lump in his throat.

  “I think he uses it as an excuse to check up on you and Gage, see how y’all are doin’.”

  Reese could’ve called him if he really wanted to know. Then again, Brantley and Reese weren’t high on Travis’s list of people he cared to talk to these days. The conversations they did have were necessary, nothing more.

  His father looked at him, those blue-gray eyes wary. “I know you wanna blame those boys for what happened, but we both know it ain’t their fault.”

  Rationally Travis knew that, sure. But he wasn’t doing a lot of rational thinking as of late. And it was just easier to lay blame than it was to figure out what his next move should be. He had honestly thought offering a reward would work. He’d thought for sure someone knew exactly where Juliet Prince was and the enticement of money would have them reporting it. That hadn’t been the case.

  “Does Gage know about this new lead?”

  He watched his father, seeing the answer long before the words came out.

  “You kept him in the loop but not me?”

  Curtis started rocking in the chair again, his gaze sliding out over the yard. “He asked me about it. I didn’t offer.”

  “But he’s known what’s been goin’ on?”

  Clearly his father thought that rhetorical because he didn’t respond.

  Travis stared out into the yard, the sky already dimming as night descended.

  “They won’t stop until they find her,” Curtis finally told him.

  He didn’t reply immediately, choosing his words carefully. When he did, he kept his voice low, even. “I don’t want her in prison, Pop. I want her in the fuckin’ ground. I don’t even care if she’s breathin’ when she goes in, I’ll shovel the dirt myself.”

  Based on Curtis’s expression, that wasn’t as much of a shock to his father as he’d thought it would be.

  “You and me both, son.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Baz finished typing up his notes and pushed back from his desk. He stretched his neck, moving his head side to side in an attempt to alleviate the tension building. It had been a long day. Hell, a long week, and while he’d spent most of the past few days sitting in his apartment with no water and the electricity flashing intermittently, it hadn’t felt like a vacation. Partly because he’d been stranded with JJ and they weren’t exactly on good terms.

  Or rather, they weren’t on the good terms he preferred them to be on. They were getting along just fine. Friends, even. They could talk and joke, but there was still a tremendous gap between where they were now and where they had once been.

  As he pushed to his feet, Baz’s stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t had lunch. He’d spent the majority of the day catching up on a few of the stragglers coming into the tip line. Nothing worth noting, but it had required a follow-up to make that assessment.

  He ventured up to the loft, following the sound of busy fingers on a keyboard. When he reached the top of the staircase, he found JJ furiously typing away.

  Baz cleared his throat, wanting to alert her to his presence. He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination or not, but these days JJ seemed jumpier than usual. Ever since New Year’s.

  When she turned her head slightly, he asked, “How long you think you’ve got left?”

  Since JJ had yet to buy another vehicle, partly delayed because of the weather, Baz was still driving her to and from the office, which meant he stayed until she was ready to go.

  JJ glanced over her shoulder, frowning. “What time is it?”

  “Six thirty.”

  “Holy shit.” She pushed ba
ck from her desk. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  His stomach grumbled again, this time loud enough for JJ to hear. It pulled a smile from her.

  “Thought maybe we could grab some dinner before we head back to the apartment?”

  “You’re speakin’ my language, Detective.”

  Yes, he was sure he was. For the past couple of weeks, JJ’s attitude toward him had changed. She’d shifted into friendship mode, and he could almost believe she was sincere in it. And while he appreciated the effort, even enjoyed talking to her, Baz couldn’t get past the feelings he had for her. He wanted something he knew she didn’t, and since he wasn’t willing to lose her, he’d adopted the same outlook: they would be friends.

  “I can finish this up at home,” she said, undocking her computer.

  “The diner?” he suggested while she tucked her laptop into her bag.

  “God, yes. I heard they brought chicken livers back on the menu.”

  Baz stopped, his nose instinctively scrunching up. “Nasty.”

  “Oh, but they’re not,” she insisted. “You’ll have to try them.”

  He was shaking his head as they walked down the stairs.

  She rambled on about chicken livers, French fries, and cream gravy all the way to his truck. Once inside, she moved on to dessert while Baz listened with half an ear.

  He had to admit, he had grown fond of this new development in their relationship. It was nice to not have JJ looking at him like she wanted to singe him with laser beams coming out of her eyes. But at the same time, he got the feeling there was more to this than she was letting on. More than them merely moving past his indiscretion.

  Ever since the night she was attacked in her house, JJ hadn’t been the same. She found one excuse after another not to be alone, and he was beginning to think she was scared.

  Not that he necessarily blamed her. She had been through a serious ordeal, one she had pretended at the time was nothing. Being bashed over the head and knocked unconscious, then drugged and doused with blood was not nothing. It was major but she still wouldn’t discuss it, keeping it all inside. He figured that was the main reason she was focusing so much on him.