Love Inspired Suspense April 2015 #2 (16 page)

He clenched his hands into fists. “I thought...”

“Oh, right. You thought you were taking care of me. It's the same thing John tries to do all the time, take care of us. So did Tucker. Well, you know what? We don't need to be taken care of. Junie and I are fine, and we don't need your charity.”

“I know that.”

“And we don't need you hanging around here out of guilt.”

It's not guilt
, he wanted to say.
Not anymore
.

She held up the check. “Here.”

“I meant it to help you.”

“Take it back to your sanctuary and use it for the birds.”

“Keeley...”

She shoved the check into his hands and tugged Junie to the house.

He crushed the paper in his fists, wondering how he'd once again managed to mess up the best thing in his life. Keeley, he realized through the tide of grief, was the only woman he'd trusted enough to open up to. It had started out of guilt, a sense of duty, but now as he watched her close the door, he realized that she meant something else to him.

Too little. Too late. He should have that tattooed on his chest. There was nothing else to be done except for him to get into his truck and leave, but not before he talked to Reggie and looked into the nagging details that still bothered him about the Tucker situation. He'd turned to go back to the truck when the door of the house was flung open. Keeley had June in her arms, and she deposited her gently on the front step.

“Stay here for a minute.” She hesitated, looking helplessly around before reluctantly eyeing Mick. “Can you make sure she doesn't wander off? Just watch her, that's all. I wouldn't ask, but...”

He nodded and joined Junie on the porch. “What's wrong?”

She shook her head and returned to the house. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, but he dutifully took up his position next to June.

June sat down on the weathered porch and started trying to take off her socks and shoes, which Mick noticed were soaking wet. She grunted, and her cheeks flushed red with the effort.

He knelt down and helped her until the shoes and wet socks were off. She sighed and hopped down the first porch step.

“Mama said to stay on the porch,” he said.

A crafty look came over her face, and she hopped down the next step.

“June, you gotta do what your Mama says.”

June hopped down the last step and started to sprint away when Mick caught her up as gently as he could. She squirmed at first until he positioned her on his shoulders. “Okay, Miss June. Mind your head,” he said as he ducked through the front door, June giggling madly and bouncing on his shoulders.

He noticed the water immediately, soaked floorboards outside the kitchen. Keeley emerged from the hallway, her pants rolled up and shoes discarded. She eyed Junie. “I told you to...”

“She decided to disregard your orders,” he cut in. “What's going on?”

“Someone turned on all the taps in the kitchen and the bathroom and stoppered up the sinks and tub. Everything is soaked.” There was a slight tremble in her voice, but she did not cry. “Who would do that?”

Who indeed? “Couldn't have been Tucker.” A sinister thought rose in his mind. John Bender was determined to pull Keeley into his orbit, and Junie, too. “Would Bender do something like this?”

She started as if she'd gotten an electric shock. “John? Of course not. He cares for us. How could you think such a thing?”

The Molotov cocktail. A house left to flood. Both designed to push her out of her house and into his. “He wants you to move in with him.”

She exploded. “Mick, stop it,” she shouted. “I told you no one is going to pressure me into doing anything. This is my house, for me and Junie. There's no room for anyone else in our lives.”

Junie shoved her fingers in her mouth and pressed her face against the top of Mick's head, eyes closed, whimpering.

Keeley's face crumpled. “Oh, honey. I'm sorry.”

“Mad, mad,” she sniffed.

“No, Mama's not mad.” She shot a look at Mick. “Not at you. Come here.” He bent so she could take the child from his shoulders.

“I'm sure this involves those kids, Ricky and Stephano,” she said, while swaying side to side with Junie. “They had a score to settle, especially Stephano after I harassed him at work. They pried the back bedroom window open.” She cuddled Junie. “Oh, Junie.” She sighed. “This isn't how I imagined your homecoming would be.”

“Where are the towels? I'll dry the hardwood.”

“No, Mick. I told you...”

He stared her down. “Yes, I heard. No room in your life for anyone. You're mad at me for prying into your life and sending money. Got it. I'm going to dry the floor while you hold Junie. That's not prying or bossing, it's just salvaging.”

Her eyes still sparked with fire that ignited something deep in his belly.

“Top shelf, hall closet,” she said, voice cold.

Grateful that he could still be of some small service, he set off, boots squelching on the wet floor. Was the house flood the work of two disgruntled teens? He wanted to believe it, but his gut told him it was something else, something far more sinister.

SEVENTEEN

W
hen the kitchen floor was relatively dry, Keeley set June at the table with a tub of plastic animals to keep her occupied. Her mind spun with the latest setback. She did not have the money to replace carpets or the ruined draperies. Insurance would cover some, but she didn't even want to think about the deductible. Mick's thousand dollars would help, but she would not consider taking it. Her pride stung to think that all these months she'd been his charity case, a way to assuage his guilt. More than that, she'd let herself grow fond of him, a man who saw her as a duty, someone who needed a caretaker.

She brushed away the thoughts. The first problem at hand was what to do with Junie. The only bedroom was unlivable, at least until she got the sodden carpet removed. Aunt Viv would of course welcome Junie again, but Keeley hated to ask. She was supposed to be the mother, the provider, and it was time to stop taking advantage of Aunt Viv. John had an extra bedroom and he'd like nothing better than for them to come and stay with him, but Mick's accusation stuck in her mind. John's attention had always elicited an odd feeling in Keeley, but she knew he would never stoop to damaging her home in order to convince her to stay with him. Would he?

“This is ridiculous. I know John. Mick doesn't.” She snatched up her cell phone and dialed John's number.

“Hi, John, it's Keeley.”

“Is something wrong? You sound tense.”

Wrong? Everything was wrong. She should go stay with the man and let him provide a dry place for her daughter, for goodness' sake. It would be so easy. “Um, no. Nothing's wrong. I actually... Everything is fine. I'm not going to come in to help with the birds tonight. Something's come up.”

“Are you sure you're okay? Do you need any help?”

“No, we're fine. I'll probably see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he said doubtfully. “But I'm here if you need anything, remember that.”

She disconnected. Had it come to this? That she did not trust anyone? She'd wanted so badly to shut everyone out after LeeAnn's death, to prove to herself that she did not need to let anyone in as she assumed the role of a mother figure. It had been easy to do, until Mick arrived on the scene.

You don't need him. You can do this all by yourself. God's equipped you, remember?

Mick dumped a pile of wet towels in the corner of the kitchen. “I pulled up the carpet in the bedroom and put cardboard over the nails. Hallway and bathroom are dry. Windows are open to dry things out.” He hesitated. “Will you hear out a suggestion?”

She nodded for him to continue.

“You and June sleep in the camper tonight, since it will be cold with all the windows open.”

She felt miserable. Of course Mick would no longer need to stay in the camper. His job was done now that Tucker was caught. The only bright spot was that she could have Junie with her overnight, finally, if she could find a spot dry enough.

“Okay,” she said dully. “She has a playdate today. That will give me some time to contact the flooring people and the insurance company.”

The silence grew awkward between them.

“Please thank your father again for his kindness when you get back,” she said.

“Okay.”

“Why do I get the sense you're not leaving right away?” She ignored the hopeful feeling that sprang up inside her.

“Got loose ends to nail down.”

“What?”

He didn't answer.

“You're going to check out the rooftop.”

Still no answer.

“Because you think Tucker might be innocent after all.”

“Because I still don't know why he was interested in staying on that rooftop. That's all.”

“I'm going, too.”

“No.”

“You don't get to tell me what to do. If Tucker is innocent, then someone else killed my sister.”

“And if it is someone else, they're not going to want you to find out. That puts you in danger.”

“It's my call, not yours.” She paused. “Soon you'll be out of here and I'll be left to raise my sister's child. Someday I want to tell Junie when she's old enough that the bad person, whoever that is, was held responsible for what he did to her mother.”

“I want that for you, too.”

She added quietly, “That's the only way you'll ever be free of the guilt...and me.” She'd expected to find hardness in his eyes, the flinty soldier whom she'd taken to task, the overbearing guy who'd interfered. Instead she found softness there in his chocolate gaze, a shimmering sweetness as he stared at her that made her knees weak.

Slowly, he reached up his hand and traced one finger along the side of her face. “Keeley,” he said. “I'll never get you out of my heart.” Then he turned and walked out.

* * *

I'll never get you out of my heart
. Had he really said that? Given voice to the strange longing that had nested deep inside him? It was true. After he'd gone home, back to the quiet sanctuary with his father and his birds, she would remain in his soul, if only in his memory. Mick was not a person of great imagination, but he'd often found himself wondering what life would have been like if his son had lived. He knew his mind would harbor similar musings about Keeley. Their lives would be separate, but his heart would drift back to her. Why? Was it guilt? He did not think so, not anymore. Was it love, then?

It could not be that. She would not allow it, and with good reason. He'd barreled his way in uninvited, and he above all people had the least right to do so. Keeley's focus was June, as it should be, and she wanted no one else involved. Enough said. He drove to Reggie's place.

Reggie was outside, polishing his old 1971 Mustang, from the windshield wipers to the personalized plates and everything in between. The sheen off the red paint glowed like hot coals.

“Thought you'd show up here sooner or later.” He wiped his hands on a rag. “Finally got Rivendale. I'm just sorry it wasn't me that shot him.”

“He's still alive.”

Reggie shrugged. “Docs say he's in a coma. Most likely won't make it. Save a lot of effort if he didn't.”

The skin around Reggie's good eye was pinched, stubble showed on his normally clean-shaven chin. Things hadn't gone well with the cops, probably. Best to be direct. “Why didn't you say that Bruce was your parolee?”

“Well,” he said, heaving out a deep breath, “cops already grilled me. I guess it's only fair that you have your turn.”

Mick waited.

“Fact is, Mick, I didn't remember.”

Mick couldn't conceal his disbelief. “Come on. You're the guy who remembers ever collar you ever made in your thirty-year cop career. You memorize baseball stats like nobody's business. Don't tell me you forgot a guy like Bruce.”

“See, that's where it gets a little embarrassing for me. I haven't been as meticulous as I should have with my cases. I might have been a tad careless.”

Mick was getting a sinking feeling in his gut. “How careless?”

“Come on, Mick. You know these parolees. Some are heavy-duty and some are the lightweights. I sort of rubber-stamped a few of the minor offenders.”

“Rubber-stamped?”

He shrugged. “You know, wrote up some notes, passed them along through the system without really doing too much checking.”

Mick groaned. “I can't be hearing this right.”

He shrugged. “Got so many cases, who can really pay attention to them all? You know what the workload is like. Upward of one hundred ten cases at any given time.”

“So you dummied the paperwork?”

“That sounds harsh.”

“It is harsh,” Mick snapped. “You made up things? Job interviews? Drug test results? All of it?”

“Only for a few, and not the real bad boys. One two-bit criminal doesn't make a difference.”

“Only this one might have, Reg. This one might have been working with Tucker Rivendale.” He tried to bring his volume down without success. “This one might have killed a girl.”

He looked away. “What I hear, she was a parolee, too.”

“That doesn't mean she deserved to die.”

“Of course not, and don't put words in my mouth.” He was angry now. “LeeAnn Stevens didn't deserve to die, either. That's why I came here in the first place, to deal with Tucker Rivendale, a guy who killed a girl, too, and on your watch, I might add, so maybe you can knock off the high-and-mighty gimmick.”

They stood in silence for a moment, Mick breathing hard, trying to rein in his temper. Finally he nodded. “Okay. I guess we're both in damage-control mode.”

“Aside from the fact that I'm probably going to be forced into early retirement or fired, the damage is controlled. Rivendale is neutralized and the cops will watch out for the brothers.”

Mick nodded.

“But you're not convinced about something.” Reggie shook his head. “Please don't tell me you think Tucker is innocent.”

“I need to check out the rooftop. Find out what he was after.”

Reggie laughed, a bitter sound. “I didn't do my job, and you can't stop doing yours. Ironic.”

“Yeah, ironic.”

“For what it's worth, you were a good parole officer, Mick. You'd still be one, if you'd ease up on yourself.”

“I'm hearing that a lot lately.”

“Keeley bending your ear?” He offered a sly smile.

“I'm leaving as soon as I can, Reg.”

He sighed. “Just as well. Women are nothing but trouble. Nadine loves horses, and you know how much those cost? Why can't she adore a nice poodle? Something that doesn't require a stable and a saddle.”

Mick smiled in spite of himself.

“Anyway, I'm not gonna ask your forgiveness for cutting corners because I don't really care if you forgive me or not. That's my trouble, I guess. Don't care.”

“You care about Nadine.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I guess she's the one person who made it through my tough-guy defenses.” Reggie arched an eyebrow. “Could be Keeley's that one girl who makes it through yours.”

“No.”

“Okay. I'm just thinking that having a woman love you and a family to go home to at night beats scouring filthy rooftops in search of evidence to prove you weren't wrong.” He turned back to the car. “Catch you later, maybe.”

Mick turned back to the truck and drove back to Silver Creek.

The sun appeared and disappeared between clouds, dappling him with light and shadow as he drove. How many miles had he covered in the past year and a half? Traveling roads of self-recrimination and loathing, trapped and steeped in guilt? He'd been blind to Reggie's transgressions, blind to the people who had tried to come alongside him and offer him solace. Imprisoned.

Keeley's words came back to him.
God forgives everything because you're His son.

“Lord,” he said aloud. “If You're listening, I'm sorry. For everything. If You'll forgive me for my heap of sins—” He found his eyes were damp. “I'll try to forgive myself.”

He did not feel a bolt of energy or the sudden wash of contentment, but something inside him eased just a fraction, a corner of the darkness lifted and Mick knew, in that moment, that God was with him.

On a lonely country road.

In a beat-up old Ford.

He took up the key God offered and let himself out of the prison.

* * *

Keeley drove June to five-year-old Bonnie's house in Big Pines. It was one of Junie's favorite things of all time to spend the afternoon with her friend Bonnie, and Keeley was grateful that LeeAnn had struck up a friendship with Bonnie's mom, Roberta. Bonnie, too, had Down syndrome, and the girls had bonded at various playgroups and in doctors' waiting rooms. After LeeAnn's death, Roberta had stepped right in to make sure that June and Bonnie had playtime together. Keeley learned so much from Roberta, an experienced mother of four—everything from where to buy musical toothbrushes to how to administer a proper time-out for misbehavior.

Roberta greeted them both with warm hugs and an offer of coffee for Keeley.

“We're hoping to go to the movies this afternoon. Is it okay to keep her for a while?”

Keeley agreed, thanking Roberta and reaching for her wallet.

“My treat,” Roberta said, stopping her.

Keeley's cheeks burned as she accepted the offer. Roberta was aware that money was tight. What would she think if she knew the condition of Keeley's sodden carpets and ruined curtains? Clamping down on a measure of despair, Keeley departed.

After a quick stop at home and several maddening phone calls to the insurance company, she once again took her place in the passenger seat of Mick's truck.
One more time, that's all
, she told herself. She avoided looking at his strong profile, keeping her gaze fastened out the window.
Get it over with. Quick.

When the panic started to rise inside, she said some silent prayers.
Help me do this, God. If Tucker's innocent, help me find out. Help me be enough. Junie needs me.

And who do you need?
The question rumbled through her mind. No one. Now that Tucker was in custody, her obstacle was overcome. She and Junie were safe and no longer needed the police, or John, or Mick Hudson. Why, then, did her body seem to yearn for Mick's gentle embrace? She clenched her hands into balls to keep herself from remembering the feel of his rough hands as he held hers; every tender glance, each gentle word he'd spoken to Junie nestled down inside Keeley like a newly fledged bird. Even the shame and anger over his anonymous checks had subsided. Why had God drawn Mick, the least likely person that should comfort her, into their lives?

You don't need him
, she told herself.

But did she?

Keeley bit her lip. It didn't matter anyway. He would be gone right after their rooftop excursion. Gone, and Keeley would be ready to resume her life again. The thought left her flat and cold inside.