Until Kates story checked out, he had to think of her as a criminal. He half hoped she did own the house; hed hate to see her end up in Walpole. Massachusetts Criminal Institute Cedar Junction was no place for such a pretty woman.
But then again, if what she said was truewhat if she decided to become a resident of Havensport? Brody had an uneasy feeling that having her in the same town for any length of time would be hazardous to his carefully tended solitude.
Ha! As if youd ever let a woman get close to you again, reprimanded his inner voice. As if this woman, who drips with class, would ever want to get close to you.
Brody drew back from the sleeping woman on the cot. He rubbed the spot on his hip where he bore the constant reminder of what trusting a woman could do. Old anger and helpless rage roared to life and Brody let out a compressed breath. He spun away and stalked back to his desk to stare at the blank computer screen.
The quicker he cleared up the mess with his guest, the better. Then his nice quiet life could resume the way he wanted it.
Alone.
THREE
Sunshine streamed through the barred window of the jail cell, spilling slanted lines of light across the cement floor and onto the cot where Kate lay. The warmth of the golden rays touched her cheek, and roused her from sleep.
Turning her head fully into the light, Kate frowned at the faint scent that clung to the air. She couldnt place it, but she knew it. A masculine fragrance, which stirred up images of a hard body pressed against her, a handsome face and a tender gesture.
The sheriff.
Kates lids popped opened, her body tensed on the hard cot. Now she remembered where she was and why. Staring up at the gray ceiling of the jail cell, she listened for movement. Only the sounds of her own breathing met her ears. Was she alone in the jailhouse? She only had to turn her head to see through the black bars, but she stayed motionless, assessing her situation.
Strangely, she hadnt dreamed last night. One would think being locked up in a cold jail cell would bring her nightmares on full force. But she felt rested and ready to tackle the task of discovering why Paul had been murdered.
First she had to deal with Sheriff McClain.
Once Gordon explained about the house, the sheriff would have to let her go. But she had a disquieting feeling her association with the man wouldnt end there. He seemed the type to press, to find challenge in uncovering secrets. Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe the sheriff could help.
She sat up abruptly.
No. She couldnt trust anyone, save God. Even this man whod sounded so sincere when hed offered his help, who had cared enough to supply another blanket, whodshe glanced down.
On the floor, next to her feet, sat a tray with juice, cereal and milk. Surprise and a good dose of pleased warmth suffused her.
Her gaze sought out the sheriff. He sat leaning over his desk with his cheek resting on his forearms. Asleep. He looked boyish, with waves of ebony spilling over his forehead and dark lashes splayed across his cheeks. Kate shook her head in wonder. Just when had Sheriff McClain brought the tray in? Shed heard the squeak of the cell door only once, when hed brought her the blanket.
A violent shudder swept her body. Shed spent a dreamless night within the cell, lulled to sleep by a false sense of security. Anyone could easily have killed her in her sleep. Anyone being the sheriff.
But he hadnt.
Sheriff McClain was not the enemy. He hadnt known Paul. The man was simply a small-town sheriff doing his job. In her heart, she acknowledged that as truth, but her brain wasnt so sure.
Trust no one.
Get a grip, girl, she muttered as she opened the milk carton and poured the liquid into the bowl of corn flakes. Pauls warning couldnt have extended to the sheriff. There was no reason she couldnt trust Brody McClain.
As she finished the cereal and was about to open the orange juice, a pained grunt split the air. Kates gaze jumped to the sheriff. His once-relaxed features pulled back into a grimace, his head jerked and a moan slipped from between his lips.
She realized he was gripped within a nightmare. She knew what it was like to feel helplessly lost in the dark swirl of fear, memory and sleep. Compassion filled her chest until it ached with the need to relieve him of his dreams.
Sheriff McClain? Her voice bounced off the walls but held no power. Sheriff? she tried again, but to no avail. His head thrashed across his bent arms, his big body tense.
Taking a deep breath, Kate used her diaphragm to add more strength to her voice. McClain!
Her voice snapped through the station like the slam of a door.
As a wake-up call, it worked well.
Brody jerked his head up and blinked several times before he realized he was at the station, not on a darkened street in the middle of a storm facing the barrel of a gun.
His gaze met that of the woman occupying the cell. Red curls framed her face, emphasizing her large, compassion-filled eyes. Shed witnessed his nightmare. Great.
Taking a shuddering breath, Brody composed himself and rose from his chair. Rigid, stiff muscles objected to the stretching. His limbs ached. The need to work out the kinks demanded his attention, but Brody had a job to finish first. The gym would have to wait.
He moved away from the desk to the coffee machine. With each step of his right leg, pain shot into his hip. He refused to allow himself the luxury of limping when meadow-green eyes followed his every move.
By rote, he went through the process of making strong coffee. Soon, the sound and smell of brewing French roast filled the air. Brody inhaled the rich scent for a moment, and pushed away the unease of Kate having witnessed what he worked so hard to keep beneath his heel. He walked steadily to the cell and opened the door. Good morning.
His charge stared at him. Her head listed to the side and questions fairly radiated from her expression. Good morning.
The corners of her mouth kicked up in a tentative smile that sneaked inside his chest and made it difficult to breathe.
Thank you for breakfastand the blanket.
He swallowed against both her gratitude and the effects of her smile. He didnt want either one. I hope you slept well.
I did, actually. She stood and stepped past him, then stopped in the center of the room. She looked around uncertainly. Is there a restroom I could use?
Down the corridor, on the left. Brody watched her disappear before he shifted his feet and took his weight onto his left leg, easing the ache in his right hip. Why was he bothering? It didnt make sense; vanity wasnt usually one of his faults. But letting her witness his weakness wasout of the question. He didnt want her to look at him with pity.
Most everyone in town knew vague details of how hed acquired his limp. Few dared approach the subject and even fewer knew the truth of the situation. Taking a bullet was a hazard of the job that every law-enforcement officer faced. Only for Brody it was so much more and so much worse.
Forcing his torturous thoughts to recede, Brody limped over to his desk, sat down and tried to boot up the computer. The screen remained blank. He made a mental note to call the local computer expert and have him take a look at the infernal machine, which was always on the fritz. Somewhat ruefully, he figured hed have to check out his guest the old-fashioned way.
As he reached for the phone, it rang, the shrill sound ringing hollow in the small station. Picking up the receiver, he answered, Havensport County Sheriffs Office, Sheriff McClain speaking.
I understand you have Katherine Wheeler in your custody. The gravelly voice boomed in Brodys ear, the tone sharp, the words clipped.
And you are?
Gordon Thomas, Katherines attorney.
Figured a Beverly Hills address could buy attitude. She was caught breaking into one of our residents summer home.
The Kinsey residence?
Yes.
The house belongs to my client.
Brody didnt like the condescending tone in the mans voice. Ill need proof of that.
Whats your fax number? the man asked curtly.
Brody rattled off the number and a few seconds later the machine in the corner beeped and hissed. Paper rolled out; sheet after sheet until finally it gave one final beep and remained silent.
Sheriff McClain, Id like to speak with Ms. Wheeler.
Sorry, shes indispos Brodys voice trailed off as he noticed Kate standing beside his desk. Even with her wrinkled clothes and finger-combed hair, she radiated a quiet confidence. Hed give the lady credit; she was no fragile flower.
Here she is.
Kate took the phone and turned away. He could hear the urgent note in the low tones of her voice. Picking up the fax, he flipped through the pages and realized Katherine Wheeler, though he liked Kate better, had been telling the truth. She now owned the house.
Here, he wants to talk with you.
Kates little smile grated on Brodys nerves. So she hadnt been lying. Big whoop. The fact that one female had the ability to tell the truth should make him happy, but he couldnt stop the unsettled feeling that something wasnt right. How did Pete Kinsey fit into this?
Everything seems to be in order. I still have questions.
Im sure you do, Sheriff, but first things first. Release Mrs. Wheeler. Theres no need for her still to be in your custody.
Brody wasnt so sure about that. He couldnt deny Kates name appeared on the copies of her late husbands will and the deed to the house. She had every right to walk freely away and go about her life, yet he hesitated.
Mentally, he reviewed what he knew: Kate Wheelers husband had been murdered, shed inherited the Kinsey home. According to the paper faxed to him by the lawyer, the L.A.P.D. was investigating Pauls death but had yet to produce a suspect. All in all, the lawyer had supplied Brody with more information than required.
Legally, Brody had no reason to hold Kate, but it didnt sit well just to let her walk out. His protective impulses demanded he take her back to the house himself. For crying out loud, the woman had been terrified that someone was out to kill her, too.
Brody glanced at the blank computer and fervently wished the contraption hadnt gone on the blink. He would have liked to gather a bit more unbiased information.
Into the phone, Brody said crisply, Mrs. Wheeler is free to go. I assume I can count on you to answer further questions?
Of course, Sheriff. Always happy to cooperate with the authorities.
The veiled sarcasm in Thomass voice rang clear. Brodys hand tightened on the receiver. Ill be in touch.
As soon as hed put the receiver back in the cradle, Kate piped up. I told you I owned the place. You should have given me the benefit of the doubt.
He slanted her a sideways glance. Just doing my job, Mrs. Wheeler.
I thought people were considered innocent until proven guilty?
Not in any reality I know. Brodys mouth quirked with a self-effacing grimace.
Hed been young and idealistic enough once to believe in the system, to believe that good triumphed over evil, that right always won out in the end, and that justice for all wasnt selective. But it was and hed spent his adult life dedicated to making sure the innocent received their justice.
But thats how its supposed to work.
Supposed to being the operative phrase.
Emotions flickered across Kates faceanger and a touch of sadness. The impulse to take her into his arms and hold her until only joy reflected in the depths of her green eyes rose up sharply. He clenched his jaw. Been down that road. Not going again.
She shook her head. This isnt the way God planned it, you know.
Her words poked at an old wound. He raised a brow. What makes you think God gives a rip?
Little creases appeared between her brows. Because the alternative is unthinkable. Without God, theres no hope. Without hope, whats the point?
The point is to make it through each day. Refusing to let slip any of the betrayal he felt, he kept his voice neutral. And if you live to see another day, you make it through that one.
Thats not living.
He shrugged. Its surviving.
Thats missing out on all that God has to offer.
Her earnest expression tugged at him, but he could never forget or forgive. Yeah, like heartache and pain. No, thanks.
Who hurt you, Sheriff?
The sincerity in her quietly asked question hit him in the chest like the business end of a nightstick. No way was he going to open up to her. No way was he going to allow anyone close again.
Ive seen more than my share of heartache and pain.
Compassion and skepticism warred in her eyes. Tension coiled in his veins. The moment she decided to let it go he released a concentrated breath.
Amusement entered her gaze. Havensport doesnt exactly seem like crime central.
Normally, its not. Youre the most excitement this town has seen in a while.
An auburn brow arched. Oh, really.
Heat crept up his neck. Real smooth, boyo.
She was exciting in a dangerous way that had nothing to do with the law and everything to do with attraction. Not a good thing.
He cleared his throat. I meant the breaking and entering.
Kate smiled and his gaze snagged on the cute little dimple in the middle of her chin. What would she do if he kissed her there?
His expression must have given away his thoughts because her smile faltered and a blush deepened the contours of her cheeks. She didnt look away.
Im sorry I scratched you.
Back to business, McClain. Forget about kisses. Kisses only led to betrayal.
Are you ready to tell me what had you so scared?
She lifted her delectable chin. May I leave now?
She was a tough little cookie. He liked that. Come on, Ill take you back.
Ill walk, thanks, she replied and headed for the door.
Ill drive you.
With her hand on the doorknob, she glanced over her shoulder. Its not that far.
Doesnt matter, Im taking you back.
With her hands on her hips, she glared at him. Im perfectly capable of seeing myself to my house.
She was beautiful with her face framed by red curls and those green eyes sparking with fire. He had no intention of getting burned no matter how beguiling the flame.
Are you always this stubborn?
Youre the one being stubborn, she declared with a huff.
She reminded him of a rookie cop with a chip on her shoulder. Humor me, okay? Let me do my job and take you back to your house.