Love Inspired Suspense April 2015 #2 (15 page)

“Murder, sir?”

“That surprises you?”

“Uttley was apprehending a fugitive. It wasn't murder.”

“Second leadership trait of a marine, son?”

“Judgment,” Mick fired off.

Allen searched his face. “You trusted this Rivendale, didn't you?”

Mick swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

“And now you don't think you can trust yourself, your judgment.”

Mick stayed quiet.

“You said Rivendale called you, asked for help for Ginny, denied killing LeeAnn Stevens.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you think he was trying to lure you there to lay his hands on Keeley Stevens? You believe that?”

Did he? Deep down?

“Your hesitation speaks volumes,” Allen said softly. “Still struggling with the judgment issue, I see.”

“Sir, with all due respect, but isn't the case closed? Rivendale—” He cleared his throat. “Uttley killed Rivendale to protect Ginny. Isn't that the end of it? Justified shooting.”

Allen looked at him closely. “That would be very neat and tidy, except for two things.”

Mick stood, feeling somehow that he could face whatever was coming better standing at attention. “What's that, sir?”

“Bruce and Charlie have apparently skipped town, leaving a bag of bloodstained clothes in their back room.”

Mick had to fight to keep from gaping. Bloodstained clothes?

Allen folded his hands, staring at Mick. “And Tucker Rivendale is still alive.”

The words rang in Mick's head. Still alive. Two stretchers. Tucker was alive. Through a fog he saw Allen still staring at him.

“Virginia is our murder victim. She died on scene.”

SIXTEEN

B
efore she knocked on the door to Aunt Viv's house, Keeley ran her fingers through her hair and blew her nose. Mick hung back behind her, hands in his pockets. She could not string one rational thought together after what had happened, but something inside her did not want to be separated from Mick. Her whole being yearned to be near him, and the thought set her nerves quivering.

Junie. She's the only important thing right now
.

After a last deep breath, she rapped on the door.

Viv opened it, face reddened by recent crying. She hugged Keeley. “I'm so grateful that you're safe.”

Keeley enjoyed the comfort of Viv's tight hug. “It's terrible. All of it.”

Viv let her go. “Derek called and told me the whole story. He's devastated about what happened to Ginny. He tried so hard all these years to care for her. I didn't know a thing about it. I wish I could have helped in some way.”

Keeley heard Mick shift on the step behind her.

“Mick...” What could she say about Mick and her strange onslaught of feelings for him? “He drove me over,” she finished lamely.

Viv ushered them inside. “Junie's in the backyard.”

In a moment, Keeley was out the back sliding door and into the yard, where she found Junie carefully filling her plastic bucket with fallen leaves. She looked up, her face splitting into a wide smile.

Keeley ran to her and gathered her into an embrace. “Junie” was all she could say through the tears. When June wriggled free, she put a chubby hand to Keeley's face.

“Sad?”

Keeley struggled for breath. “No,” she lied. “Happy to see you. Happy tears.”

June fastidiously wiped Keeley's face with her palms. “Better.”

“Yes. Better.”

Junie's gaze traveled to Mick. She walked to him, craning her head back to see his face.

Mick immediately took a knee. The sweetness of that gesture broke Keeley's heart all over again. This man, stricken as he was, robbed of the opportunity to be a parent, sank down to the ground at the feet of her little girl.

“Junie, this is Mr. Hudson.”

Junie regarded him soberly.

“You can call me Mick. Very nice to meet you, June.” He took her whole hand in three fingers and solemnly shook. Mick pointed to her bucket. “You are collecting leaves.”

She nodded.

“You haven't finished yet.”

She nodded again. Then she lifted the bucket and he took it, the handle swallowed up by his fingers. Without another word, they set to work, Mick and Junie, collecting all the leaves they could find.

Keeley watched them, flooded with too many emotions to name. She thought about Ginny, who had lost her mother and her way. Uttley, who was now saddled with an even more ponderous weight of guilt. When Junie grinned at a particularly fine leaf specimen that Mick handed over, Keeley's heart lurched when she saw a shadow of Tucker in the expression.

I did not kill LeeAnn.

Why did she want to believe him? He'd murdered her sister. He was a liar. But the police were now pursuing Charlie and Bruce. What if Tucker was telling the truth and he hadn't hurt Ginny? He was now under police protection as the doctors struggled to save his life. And then what? He would go to prison. End of story. Out of their lives forever.

Mick, too? There would be no reason for him to stick around. Her heart squeezed.

Viv went to answer the doorbell and ushered John into the backyard. He embraced Keeley.

“I can't believe they got him. Finally.” He heaved out a breath. “Are you okay?”

She returned the hug. “Yes.”

“Hey, June bug,” he called.

Junie raced over to John and hugged him around the knees before she handed him a leaf.

“Thank you. I will put it in my pocket for safekeeping. Will you come see the birds at my office soon? They're lonely without you.”

Junie nodded before she returned to Mick who shot a wary glance at John before they returned to their leaf hunting.

“So your life will return to normal,” he said. “No need for a bodyguard anymore.”

“I guess not.”

“You'll bring Junie home?”

“For a few days, and then I've got to get back to work. By the end of the summer, I'm hoping to move her in with me permanently.”

“That's great.” He smiled. “I was just thinking that your sister would be proud of you.”

Her eyes filled. “I hope so.”

“I know so.” His gaze drifted to Junie again. “And Tucker Rivendale will rot in prison. If he survives, that is.”

“Before Uttley shot him, he said he didn't do it.”

“And you actually buy that?” John huffed. “I will never understand what he has that makes women believe his lies. He's a loser, and even after he killed your sister, you still believe him.”

“I didn't say I believed him.”

John slapped a hand on his thigh. “You don't need to say it. It's there in your face.”

Mick put down his bucket and drew closer.

Keeley lifted her chin. “I lost more than anyone, John.”

“You're letting yourself be manipulated, LeeAnn.” His face flushed at the mistake. “I mean Keeley. Wise up, why don't you?”

“Don't speak to her in that tone.” Mick's voice was low.

John looked from Mick to Keeley. He started to reply then stopped, heaving out a long breath. “You're right. I'm sorry.”

Keeley didn't answer.

John stared at Mick. “But what about you? Do you honestly believe Tucker is innocent?”

“I don't know.”

“I guess that would make sense, since it would get you off the hook.”

Mick stiffened.

John's face grew thoughtful. “Yeah, if you can convince yourself and Keeley that Tucker's been framed, then you don't have to shoulder the guilt for letting him off house arrest to murder LeeAnn.”

Mick blinked and came closer. “This is not the place for this conversation,” he said. “There's a child within earshot.”

John glared. “You don't have to tell me about Junie. I'm here for her like I always have been. Go home, Mr. Hudson. If you want to assuage your guilt with your wild theories, go ahead, but leave Keeley and Junie out of it.”

Mick jutted out his chin. “I'm staying until I'm sure everything is wrapped up.”

“How long?” John fired back.

“None of your business,” Mick snapped.

“Mick,” Junie called.

Mick and John remained locked in a stare down for another long moment before Mick broke away to return to June.

John looked at his watch. “I've got to go. Are you driving home now?”

She nodded.

“I'll see you later, then. How about I bring some dinner?”

“That's not necessary.”

“I know. I just want to do something to mark the occasion. You're finally getting your life back. You can put the past behind you.” He gave her a final hug and left.

Would the past finally be behind her? She'd prayed so long and hard that she would be able to start a new life for Junie, just the two of them, free from the shadow of her sister's murder.

But what if Tucker was telling the truth?

She watched Mick picking up the leaves that dropped from Junie's palms as she tried to squish them into the bucket.

And how would she feel when Mick stepped out of her life forever?

* * *

Mick did not want to think about John's accusation, but it stuck in his mind nonetheless. Maybe he was considering the possibility of Tucker's innocence because it relieved him of the burden of guilt.

But there were odd pieces to the puzzle that didn't fit. The rooftop diagram. The bloody clothes left by Bruce and Charlie. And Reggie's involvement with Bruce as his parole officer. He hadn't imagined those facts. Plus he didn't see how Tucker could have sent the fake text from Fred at
Bird's Away Magazine
. It certainly wasn't from the cell phone the police had confiscated at the garage. Mason had let that much slip.

Maybe he was grasping at straws, doing anything he could to stay involved in Keeley's life. It was a sobering thought. Was it his guilt that kept his heart wandering back to her? Or something else?

He listened to Keeley's and June's lively chatter, fascinated. It was so easy and smooth, their conversation, like two birds effortlessly skimming the water. The little girl was buckled in the cramped backseat of his truck; he could just see her flyaway blond hair in the rearview mirror. She swung her toy, Mr. Moo Moo, back and forth. He was pleased to see the cow's missing eye had been reattached. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to be a father to a family with a child like Junie and a woman like Keeley. Would it be an overwhelming responsibility? A frightening lifelong commitment?

No, he decided. It would be the greatest honor of a man's life.

An honor denied to him.

Someday John might assume that role in Keeley's life. John certainly saw himself as their protector. The thought knifed in Mick's gut. Why not? His conscience taunted him. The guy was a professional. He'd known the type for years. Owned a nice house and a steady practice. Mick found he was clutching the steering wheel in a death grip. He eased off.

Keeley still looked tired, pale, but there was a peacefulness about her that he knew came from having Junie close by.

Junie began to hum.

“Sing?” she said.

Keeley chimed in with something about buses and wheels going around. The melody filled the truck.

Mick could feel June staring at him.

“She wants you to sing, too,” Keeley said.

Him? Sing? He never sang or even hummed and with good reason. Birds were known to plummet from the sky within earshot of his horrible crooning. He looked at Junie in the rearview. That little girl wanted a song.
Step up
, he told himself. Then all of a sudden he was rasping along about windshield wipers that swished and doors opening and closing. He sang with as much vigor and commitment as he had shown when his company fought in Khafji in Operation Desert Storm. All in. For her.

When the song was finished, Junie contented herself looking out the window. Mick heaved a sigh of relief. He'd had no idea there were so many things moving and shaking on a bus.

Keeley grinned. “That was the best chorus we've ever sung.”

It thrilled him for no particular reason. “No thanks to me.”

“It was perfect.” Something in the tone was soft and warm and spread through his veins like summer sunshine. She touched his hand.

“Thank you for everything you've done for us.”

“Haven't done much.”

“Yes, you have, and I won't ever forget it.” She paused. “I want you to know that if Tucker did...” She shot a look at Junie. “If he did it, it wasn't your fault. He's convincing. He made LeeAnn believe him, and I think part of me does, too.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

“I know LeeAnn wouldn't blame you, and I don't, either.”

He stared at the road.

“But you still blame yourself.” She stroked his arm, tingles shooting up and down his side. “Mick, even if what happened was out of negligence, or carelessness, or ignorance, God forgives if you ask Him to.”

“I've never asked,” he found himself saying.

“Because you don't think you're worthy of forgiveness?”

Yes
, his heart said, even though he couldn't form the words.
I am not worthy of forgiveness. I am not worthy of you.

“Mick, you are worthy of God's love. You're bossy and taciturn and kind of a maddening driver, but God forgives everything because you're His son.”

He blinked.

“If your own son had lived, do you think you would have forgiven the mistakes he made in his life?”

His own son. His boy. “I don't know. I never got the chance to find out.”

“Well, I know, because when God gave us Junie I learned that I would forgive her a million times over because I love her. People are meant to love and forgive because God made us that way. I think it's the one really good thing about us.”

“But you are good, Keeley. You are kind and gentle and committed and honest with your emotions.” He could not believe that the feelings in his heart had found words to accompany them. “You're...good.”

“And I've got just as many sins as you, Mick,” she said quietly. “They're just different.”

“And you believe God forgives them?”

The conversation with his father came back to him.

“Your mom would have said guilt is a prison and God put the key in your hand. All you need to do is take it and let yourself loose.”

What would it be like to let himself out of the cage of guilt? Would he be free to let joy into his life? To open his heart like Keeley did? To a child? To love? The thought tantalized him. They pulled up to Keeley's driveway.

“I'm going to think about it, what you said.”

She smiled. “I'm glad.” As they got out, Keeley helped June open the mailbox.

Keeley gave a huge sigh when she saw the legal-size envelope.

“I don't know who sends this money, but it always saves me in the nick of time.” She squinted at the envelope. Slowly her gaze slid to him. She knew.

“Mick, is this from you?”

He saw the slow anger kindling in her eyes, and he wanted to deny it. “Yes, ma'am,” he said softly.

“Why?”

“I knew you needed it. Your debts...”

Her face blanched. “You researched my debts?”

“I wanted to help you, to make up for...” His words betrayed him, like they always did. He watched her face ice over.

“You thought you could make it up to me? My sister's murder?”

“No,” he said, hating his own tongue. “I didn't mean that. I wanted to take care of you.”

“All this time. You never said a word. How long were you going to keep up the lie?”