Uncovered (4 page)

“Madeline?”

At Stanton’s quiet voice, she lifted her lashes. He watched her with steady concern and she made herself produce a nonchalant smile. “Thanks for telling me. I should be going—”

“Is there anything I should know?”

Other than the fact she’d stepped in it royally once more and working with Tick for the next six weeks would be even harder? Probably not. “No, I was just curious. Thanks again and tell Autry I said hello.”

He followed her to the door. “I will. Have a good day, all right?”

A good day. Like there was ever such a thing in her life.

Tick remembered at the last second not to slam the back door. Simmering anger pulsed under his skin. Damn Madeline Holton for her hard-headedness and inability to think before she spoke. Damn Stanton for hiring her in the first place. Damn Ash, too, for being so freakin’ calm about the whole mess. Even as he’d planned to go into town for a tetanus shot as soon as the doctor’s office opened, he’d already been excusing Madeline’s behavior.

That was the problem. Tick tossed his damp socks in the laundry room and strode toward the bedroom. No one had ever made Madeline face up to anything she’d ever done. Not even himself. Maybe if he’d refused to go along with Virgil all those years ago, maybe if he’d been stronger…

Maybe nothing. Living in the past was a sure way to go crazy. He planned to go to work, do his job, deal with her the best he could. It was only six weeks. Correction, five weeks and six days. He could deal that long.

The shower was running, steam curling under the bathroom door. He stripped his shirt over his head, muscles protesting the work he’d put in already that morning. He’d be stiff later, after sitting in a patrol car all day. Memories of Caitlin rubbing the tension away the night before, putting him into the best sleep he’d had in weeks, sifted through his head and a grin quirked at his mouth. Maybe he could convince her to do that all over again.

Maybe he’d actually stay awake long enough to convince her to let him seduce her when she was done. Some of his ill temper evaporated. Even if they weren’t making love, he’d enjoyed having her touch him with a sense of affection and intimacy once more. Maybe the whole patience thing was paying off.

He shoved off his jeans and was considering joining her in the shower, as he’d done too many times to count in the past, when the water stopped. He shrugged off the lost opportunity. He’d be ready for a long soak in the clawfoot tub when he returned home. If Lee was in a cooperative mood, perhaps Tick could entice Caitlin into joining him.

The bathroom door opened and Caitlin emerged, damp hair pinned in a knot, a large bath sheet wrapped around her sarong-style. Relaxing further, he resisted the urge to pull her against him and settled for brushing a quick kiss over her cheek. He smelled of alligator funk and she wouldn’t want him all over her after her shower.

“Hey. I’m gonna get cleaned up.” Without waiting for her reply, he headed for the shower. Minutes later he surfaced, feeling cleaner and more human. The bedroom was empty, the quiet noises of Caitlin setting up her files and laptop in the living area filtering in. Whistling an off-key version of an old REM tune, he tugged on khakis and his uniform polo and added his gear: badge, holster, cuffs, keys. Maybe Mama would watch the baby for a couple of hours that evening. Much as he loved his son, he was jonesing for some one-to-one time with Caitlin, even if it was only coffee and a walk, or a quick dinner at Wutherby’s.

He grabbed his duty jacket from the closet and strode through to the living room. Caitlin laid out photos on the dining room table, frowning in concentration.

“I’m going to be late if I don’t get a move on.” Laying the jacket over the back of a chair, he stopped behind his wife and wrapped his arms about her. At the first touch of his hands, her entire body stiffened. The nonverbal rejection slammed him in the gut, and his question about wanting to do something together later died on his lips.

He stepped back, eyeing the tight line of her posture. She’d been fine last night, but now she was wound tighter than a two-dollar watch. “Cait? What’s wrong?”

She didn’t look at him, merely moved a crime scene photo to a different place in the array. “Nothing.”

Oh, holy hell. He knew that “nothing” well enough. During the frustrating roller coaster of trying to conceive, she’d taken hormone injections daily, and they’d suffered through her resulting wicked mood swings together. That “nothing” meant anything but. He sighed. “Cait—”

“Tick, not now. I’ve got to get this done before the baby wakes up. It’s impossible to think about patterns once he gets going.” She shifted another picture with tense, edgy movements. “Besides, didn’t you say you were going to be late?”

“Yeah.” He jerked a hand through his hair and reached for his jacket. They didn’t normally part without even the quickest of kisses, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk it right now. He’d leave this particular move up to her. If she turned into him, then he’d know it was all right to lean in. “I’ll see you tonight. I shouldn’t be too late. Call me if you need anything.”

She didn’t look around at him. “Sure.”

With all the tension from the morning back in full force and frustration stinging him, he pulled on his jacket and strode out to his truck.

Somehow, he just knew this day was going to get worse.

She should. But she couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come and Tick’s brooding presence did nothing to coax them forward.

As she steered into a left-hand turn onto Scott Street, she cast a surreptitious glance at him. He slumped in the passenger seat, thumping his thumb on his knee and glaring out the window. Bad humor emanated from him in rolling waves.

Yes, that was going to induce her to talk to him.

“Stop here.” He flicked a finger at the small parking lot between the old fire station and an ancient row of shops. Madeline obeyed without comment. While she’d been away, the fire station had been updated into a physician’s office and the little set of shops held an insurance agency, a trendy gift shop and a beautician’s parlor.

She idled to a halt along the sidewalk. A quick glance told her why he wanted to stop. Ash stood on the grass beside the doctor’s office, talking with a tall dark-haired man. She narrowed her eyes. A familiar tall, dark-haired man. That had to be one of Tick’s brothers, the family resemblance too strong to miss.

Tick swung out of the car and she followed more slowly. Ash held one neatly bandaged hand aloft and made a chomping motion with his other. She cringed as guilt crashed through her. At least he was grinning about it, his white teeth flashing.

He greeted Tick, his gaze sliding to Madeline as she joined them. She cast a quick glance at Ash’s companion. Yes, definitely a Calvert male. Tick’s brother Del, younger by a year, and always the quietest of the Calvert sons.

Tick jerked his chin at Ash’s hand. “How is it?”

“Not as bad as it looks, Layla says. She stitched it up, gave me some antibiotics. Said to tell you to stick to arresting people and let her do the medic stuff.”

Tick’s reply was a noncommittal grunt. Del clasped his brother on the shoulder. “Glad you stopped. Have you got a minute? You need to sign the riders to that new policy.”

“Yeah.” Tick shrugged and glanced at Madeline. “I’ll be right back.”

They strolled to the insurance agency, leaving Madeline and Ash alone. She looked at his injured hand before meeting his gaze. The pale green of his eyes seemed to glow against his tan. Concern glinted in those eyes, and remorse curled through her again. The guy had been nothing but nice to her from the beginning. “I’m really sorry about this morning.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I was a bitch and you didn’t deserve that.” She waved at his hand. “Plus I got you hurt. Coming in to town probably messed up your whole routine today and—”

“Mad, stop. Please.” He chuckled, a rich sound that seemed to roll through her and set off flutters in her belly. “Injuries are part and parcel of farming. Believe me, I’ve had worse than this. It could have happened even if you weren’t there. Besides, I needed to make a run by Twitty Feed and Seed anyway, so coming into town wasn’t a major hardship.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re too good to be true.”

“See what you missed out on by not wanting to be friends?”

“Can women and men really be friends?”

He laughed, a deeper rumble that only intensified the flicker of attraction. “So did you talk to your mom?”

“Stanton.” She grimaced. “Mama can be… Well, I figured Stanton would be more objective.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty steady and straightforward.” He rested his hands at his hips and winced, lifting the injured one.

Guilt stabbed at her once more. “I am so—”

“Don’t say it. It’s over and done with, all right? An accident, pure and simple.” A gleam lit his pale eyes. “But if you’re hung up on it, maybe I’ll let you make it up to me.”

“Really.” She tilted her head. “And how is that?”

“Let me cook you dinner.”

“I think you have that backward. I should be the one cooking for you.”

“Yeah, but Autry let slip that you couldn’t boil water.” His bright grin flashed, warming her all the way through.

“Yeah, and I told you I wasn’t in the market for a man right now.”

“Which is why we agreed to be friends, remember?”

She’d done anything but agree to that, but she didn’t demur. Instead, she gave in to the smile tugging at her lips and glanced away. Farmerboy or not, he was a smooth charmer, that was for damn sure. She could like him, if situations were different.

“Dinner, huh?”

“Yeah. We’re going to be friends, and friends do those kinds of things—have coffee together, dinner, movies. Come on, what do you say?”

Anticipation licked through her, the first positive emotion she’d felt in what had to be forever. “All right.”

“Great. Seven work for you?”

“Seven is perfect.”

He rattled off directions to his home and she recognized the location as what had been a long-abandoned farmhouse. Remembering the fallen-down state of the home before, she couldn’t wait to see what a bachelor’s touch looked like on it.

“Well, I’ve got to go. I still have a lot to do today.” He gazed down at her. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“I can’t wait.”

And she couldn’t. Suddenly, Tick’s ill-temper and all the junk of their past didn’t weigh quite so heavily. She watched Ash walk away toward the battered pea-green Ford that listed to one side a little forlornly.

Her day was definitely looking up.

Tick’s gloomy disposition couldn’t dim her newfound optimism. Somehow, Ash’s easy acceptance loosened the knot in her throat. When she and Tick stopped at a convenience store for something to drink, she didn’t fire the engine immediately. She couldn’t look at him but gazed instead across the dusty gravel parking lot and cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry, about this morning.” Pushing the words out hurt, her pride stinging.

“Yeah.”

She wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel until her knuckles ached. She wouldn’t give in to her normal response to his animosity. No matter how badly her temper itched to be turned loose, she would hold it.

“I think you were right yesterday.” Those words tried to stick in her throat. “For this to work, we’ve got to deal with the past.”

“Really.”

“Tick.” She darted a glance at him. He gazed out the passenger window, a cup of coffee balanced on his knee. “I’m not proud of it, you know. What I did.”

“I imagine not.”

Her anger flared and she swallowed. “Do you have to make this so damn hard?”

He turned his head, a banked irritation burning in his dark eyes. “What do you want me to do, Madeline? Say it’s all right? Let you off the hook as easily as Ash did this morning?”

“I can’t believe you’re still holding a grudge this big. Aren’t you the one in the church pew every Sunday morning? I thought there was this whole thing about forgiveness in the Bible.”

“It’s not a grudge. I forgave what you did a long time ago, Madeline. Forgetting is something else entirely.” He lifted his cup for a cautious sip. “You can damn sure bet after this morning, Ash and I both will be more careful around those alligators. Know why?”

A sick feeling settled in her stomach. “Why?”

“Because if the gator bites one of us once, that’s the gator’s fault. If we let it happen a second time, that one’s on us. Alligator behavior doesn’t change much. Ours should.”

“You’re comparing me to an aggressive reptile with a brain the size of a walnut.”

“No, I’m saying your behavior hasn’t changed in the last eighteen years. You still act and speak without thinking about the consequences. You’re still focused on how everything affects you and the hell with everyone else. You’re dangerous, Madeline, and I’m not going to sit here and lie and say being in this car with you on patrol, having you work in my department doesn’t scare the shit out of me. Because your traits are the ones that get other cops killed.”

He paused a second and the sick churning in her gut worsened. His mouth tight, he met her gaze.

“But you already know that, don’t you?”

The words slammed into her and the nausea threatened to overwhelm her. It was one thing to have the guilt in her head…quite another to have Tick Calvert throwing it in her face. She knew what she’d done, that Jack had paid for her impulsivity, and she sure as hell didn’t need Tick’s reminder. She flexed her hands on the wheel and swallowed hard, her vision blurring. She blinked, hard.

“You bastard.”

“Yeah, we already covered that one today.” He sounded bored. He lifted the cup to his mouth again, and she fought the urge to knock it out of his hand, to scream at him, make him take back those awful, damning words. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to get herself under control, trying to smother the sob that wanted to be set free.

“Let’s get one more thing out in the open, Madeline.” He leaned to set the cup in the holder. “I have no intention of letting your impulsivity and lack of foresight get me killed. I have a boy at home, and I’ll be damned if he grows up without me because you did something stupid. If it comes down to me or you, I have no problem telling you that I’m the one walking away. So don’t get any delusions that we’re partners or anything more than what we are—two cops with distinctly separate agendas. Don’t think I’ll ever make the mistake of trusting you again.”

Without reply, she turned the key in the ignition, her hands shaking. She’d barely pulled onto the highway when the radio crackled. “Chandler to C-2.”

He reached for the mike. “Go ahead, Chandler.”

“We have a possible 10-109D, 183 Miller Court.” At the ten code for a death, Madeline’s ears pricked up.

“Affirmative, Chandler. C-2, C-4, en route.” He replaced the microphone and gestured toward the intersection ahead. “Turn left—”

“I know where it is.”

She flipped the lights on but left the siren silent, and increased her speed, taking the turns smoothly. Anticipation of a different sort flickered through her. She was a homicide detective, after all. This was what she lived for.

The small ranch house at 183 Miller had been the town’s rental whore as long as Madeline could remember. No one lived there permanently—people moved in, stayed weeks or months, and moved on. The result was the little house’s forlorn air, as though it was always waiting to be abandoned once more.

Damn, it was sad when she could relate to an inanimate building.

Shaking off the depressing musings, she shifted into park at the curb and swung out of the car to join Tick on the walk. Moving boxes sat stacked next to a large rolling trashcan. Tick approached slowly, one hand on his unsnapped holster, his gaze flicking over the front of the house.

The front door swung open, and Madeline tensed, reaching for her own gun. Something familiar about the woman who stepped onto the porch tugged at Madeline’s remembrance, and she frowned. That wasn’t…it couldn’t be.

No fucking way.

The cosmos couldn’t be out to get her
that
much.

Sunlight glimmered off bottled-blonde hair that needed a root touch-up. The woman’s big blue eyes locked onto Tick with the speed of a homing missile and Madeline stiffened further. Shit damn
fuck
.

Obviously, the cosmos wasn’t through with its weird joke on her yet.

The blonde stopped on the top step, a hand over her heart. “Oh my Lord, Tick Calvert. I am so glad to see it’s you. There is a skeleton under my house.”

Fucking hell, it was her. From the sudden tightening of Tick’s posture, Madeline was sure he’d recognized her as well. Madeline sucked in a deep breath. This was not going to be pretty.

Tick stopped, one hand still resting on his holster, one foot on the bottom step. “Allison?”

She nodded, a wild blend of emotions passing over her face—fear, surprise, reminiscence, attraction, longing. “Yes, I just moved back a few days ago to take a job at McGee’s.” She waved a hand behind her. “I’m renting until I find something permanent and I went into the crawlspace to look at the pipes—I was afraid there was a leak—and there is a
body
under there.”

“You mentioned a skeleton?” At Madeline’s question, Allison Barnett turned her attention on her. Madeline squared her shoulders under the rabid hatred that filled the woman’s blue gaze as soon as recognition sank in.

“Yes.” Allison shifted her gaze back to Tick, dismissing Madeline as something beneath her notice. Madeline rolled her eyes. No surprise there. Allison’s voice took on the breathy quality that had half the senior boys panting after her when they’d been in high school. Even then, though, she’d been fixated on Tick Calvert. “There are bones and a pair of shoes, some fabric too.”

Tick slanted a look at Madeline and shrugged. “Might be animal. A dog or raccoon or something that got under there and died.”

Madeline nodded, examining the foundation. From this point, she didn’t see any holes for an animal to enter through, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one in the back.

“Let’s check it out.” Tick lifted his gaze. “Can you show us, Allison?”

“Of course.” She gestured toward the door and fell into step with Tick as they entered the house, gazing up at him while she led them through a small living room overflowing with kitschy home décor items and into the adjoined eat-in kitchen.