CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
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Brett was getting tired of everyone she cared about treating her as if she were made of glass. She included Coen in that general group. It was as if she hadn’t proved herself to him at all.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Next door to the neighbors.” She didn’t bother looking Coen’s way as she slipped her right foot into one of her Ugg boots, liking this particular style since it didn’t require any effort to lace up. Energy was something she had very little of late, especially right at this moment. The man standing in front of her was part of the problem. “I noticed that the Dockerys were home the other day when we cleared the driveway. Their flight out to see their daughter must have been cancelled due to the storm. They probably already took a trip to the grocery store, but I made them some vegetable soup anyway.”
“You’re not leaving this house.” Coen stood in front of her while holding out his hand to take the Tupperware soup bowl she’d filled in the kitchen a few moments ago. His tone suggested that he wasn’t willing to negotiate. Well, neither was she. “I’ll take it over.”
“No, you won’t. They don’t know you. You’re not their neighbor.”
Brett shifted her body so that he couldn’t reach the soup container she’d set down on the entryway table. She grabbed her jacket.
“Brettany, don’t be—”
“Don’t be what, Coen?” Brett shoved her arms inside and then concentrated on the zipper. “Do you even realize that you’ve treated me all morning the same way as you did last weekend? Wait. Yes, you do. Because you never thought you’d have to see me again, and yet here you are pretending as if we were never intimate. If that wasn’t bad enough, you’ve been watching my every move as if I’ll break at any moment. Newsflash—I won’t. I’m not a china doll.”
Brett shouldn’t have said anything. She should have kept her feelings to herself, especially given the circumstances. Yes, she was stressed, and for very good reason. But she never expected Coen to put this…distance…between them after they’d been so close. It wasn’t fair to her, to him, or whatever friendship they might have been able to maintain had he not returned.
“Would you please keep your voice down?” Coen asked in a rather harsh whisper as he leaned in so that their heated discussion didn’t carry into the other room. “It wasn’t my intention to—”
“Did I ask you to marry me? Did I?”
“What?” Coen jerked back as if he’d been stung by a wasp. Good, because he was the one to make this morning awkward when he all but spoke to her like a stranger after allowing her to fall sleep on his shoulder last night as they sat on the couch. “Of course not. You—”
“That should tell you something then. You don’t have any kind of claim on me, Coen.” Brett looped the scarf around her neck and then took her time sliding her fingers into her gloves. She didn’t like things being so out of her control, especially when the situation involved her family and friends. “If you’re worried about my parents, don’t be. They’ll get over it as soon as you leave.”
Brett purposefully turned and pointed toward a specific picture hanging on the wall of her stairwell to prove her point.
“I’ve had several men in my life before, Coen. I’ve even managed to keep the vast majority of that small, yet precious group as friends, most of whom still say hello to my parents when they see each other in town. You won’t have that particular problem.” Brett gave one last tug on her left glove before she picked up the soup container and cradled it in her arm. “We had great sex. Crazy as it sounds, we didn’t elope afterward. My mom and dad have already figured out that I’m an adult who makes her own choices. Their only concern is for my safety and vice versa. I don’t want to see anything happen to my parents or any of my friends. Unfortunately, you’ve had three updates since we woke up in each other’s arms—and let me add that those three hours weren’t nearly enough for me to forget what you promised last night—and not once have you told me the truth about you’ve been told. All I’ve heard from you all morning is that everything is fine, because you don’t think I can handle the truth. To be honest, that’s all I want from you right now.”
“You received a real shock to your system last night, Brettany.” Coen shot a glance toward the kitchen where her mom was currently washing the dishes and her father was reading the newspaper. “Nothing has happened since then that changes the current situation in any measurable way.”
“I wouldn’t know that, would I?” Brett pointed out, wishing they could go back to when they were trapped inside by the storm and she was safe. Things between them last night had been somewhat normal, but not since this morning. Someone must have mentioned something about their relationship. “How much trouble have I caused you with Mr. Calvert?”
“I can handle my own business, thank you. Point taken.” Coen shifted his weight and then ran a hand over his freshly shaved face. This clean look didn’t detract from his good looks in any way, and had her wanting to touch him even more. She certainly wouldn’t do something that wouldn’t be well received, though. “Brettany, it’s not like we both didn’t agree to the boundaries.”
“Ah, that’s right.” Brett held up two gloved fingers in succession to make her point. “No strings. No expectations. I hadn’t realized that included a simple friendship. I would have expected you to at least act cordial. Silly me.”
Brett could admit to slightly blowing her reaction out of proportions. She was highly sensitive at the moment, but that didn’t mean she was weak. He’d treated her as his equal before, and her parents’ presence shouldn’t change that.
“Move, please.” Brett stepped around him when it was clear he wasn’t going to shift away from the front door. His loud sigh was unmistakable. It didn’t surprise her when he grabbed his jacket and followed behind. “Is that woman who took your place still in the rental house or can’t you answer that question either?”
The crisp air hit her cheeks right before the light breeze instantly caused her eyes to water. The street was still packed with ice and snow, regardless that the snowplow had been through numerous times spreading sand. It was quiet out here, unlike inside with the low murmurs of conversation and the heat running nonstop. Not even the birds were chirping. It was like nature understood the severity of the situation and was waiting for something to happen with bated breath.
“Brettany.” Coen wrapped a hand around her upper arm and brought her to a stop before she could leave her porch. He was unapologetic as his dark gaze met hers. “My first concern has always been your safety. Did you know that your father’s first reaction was to pack your bags and take you far away from here to California? I don’t blame him, but your parents can’t act on what they believe is your best interest. Me giving gruesome details about how Eyles was repeatedly stabbed until he bled out and then having his flesh carved from his body certainly wouldn’t help matters, either. You don’t need those details to feel safe.”
“My parents have every right to be concerned, but I’m an adult and I make my own decisions. I didn’t abdicate that right to you when we had sex.” Brett wasn’t backing down from this. “What exactly did your team find at the police department?”
Coen let his hand drop as he shook his head, either in wonderment at her tenacity or in frustration that she wouldn’t just sit back quietly while every decision was made for her. Was she scared or frustrated? Absolutely, on both counts. She didn’t want to be tortured and then killed, all because Shepherd Moss was trying to make some point that only he completely understood. But she wouldn’t lie down and let it happen without a fight for her right to be who she was.
“The officer on duty last night is known for taking sleeping breaks between two and three hundred hours while the other deputies are out of the building on their patrols.” Coen shoved his hands in his pocket. The bitter temperature was starting to settle over them, and the cold wasn’t so pleasant. “Someone was well aware of his sleeping schedule…someone from this town.”
“Officer May?” Brett winced at the thought of Travis losing his job. He was in his late fifties and on the verge of retiring anyway. “Everyone in town knows that he sleeps on the job, but that’s because he helps take care of his grandchildren during the day. His daughter is an alcoholic and isn’t the most responsible mother. He does the best he can, everyone knows that.”
“There has to be consequences for allowing a man to be killed on his watch. He had a prisoner he was responsible for who died a horrible death. That tells me he can’t uphold the responsibility of the job to which he was assigned.” Coen shifted back on the heels of his boots, most likely to keep moving for his circulation. “We did have luck with the security feeds, but the perp was dressed in all black…including a ski mask that covered his face. Therefore, all we have is his general height and build.”
“And the third call?” Brett was putting together his conversations with the information he was feeding her. Granted, he’d told her the truth when he said that nothing had turned up that would help her situation. They still didn’t know who killed Heidi or Martin. “What did you find out that had you walking out of the kitchen?”
“Danny was processed and brought in front of a judge this morning for violating his parole.” Coen took the soup container from her arms and started for the neighbor’s house. The last phone call had been personal. “Go back inside. I’ll take care of this.”
Brett didn’t think to keep her hold on the Tupperware. He was halfway down her sidewalk before she realized her mistake.
“Coen, wait!” She quickly caught up with him, though his strides were rather wide. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed—”
“Of course, you should have. Your safety is at risk. Nothing is more important than that. I understand.”
Coen was surveying their surroundings as they walked side by side, but she didn’t sense any danger. It could very well be that his presence alone gave her peace.
Mr. Koett’s vehicle had finally been removed. Fresh tire tracks and a rather large hole remained behind as a reminder that there would be no serenity until a killer was brought to justice.
“I’m sorry about Danny,” Brett responded softly, leaving well enough alone.
Her previous level of anger started to fade.
“Yeah, me too.” His regret was palpable. “Me, too. He’ll be going back to jail.”
She was grateful when Coen slowed his pace. There were still patches of ice where she hadn’t thrown enough salt. They continued to walk the short distance, but it was what she needed. She was more balanced now and had a better perspective of things after getting some fresh air.
“Where are you guys going?” Louise had chosen that moment to pull up in her bright red Kia Soul she’d received as a wedding gift from Chad. She was leaning out the window wearing her favorite purple crocheted hat that her mother had made. It wasn’t a surprise to see Chad pull up behind her in his Land Rover. Shouldn’t they both be at work? Brett’s curiosity was satisfied when Louise continued with an explanation. “We both took the day off to spend it with you. Did you know that Heidi’s funeral has been rescheduled for tomorrow?”
“Yes, I received a call from her mother this morning,” Brett replied as she swayed back and forth to keep her body heated. “Mrs. Connolly sounds like she’s holding up well, considering what’s happened with Martin and all.”
“Have you heard anything?” Louise shifted her SUV into park and then turned the key in her ignition. She held up a finger to have Brett hold off on answering while she rolled up the window. Opening the car door, she motioned for Chad to join them before addressing Coen. “Do you have any leads yet?”
“I’m afraid not. Listen, why don’t you and Chad go on into the house,” Coen instructed as he gestured toward her house. “Brettany shouldn’t be out here in the open standing around. We’ll be back in a minute.”
“I made some homemade soup for Mr. and Mrs. Dockery,” Brett explained, pressing her mittens to her cheeks. “I don’t think they made it out to visit their daughter before the storm hit.”
“Really?” Louise shared a questioning look with Chad.
“Are you sure about that?” Chad asked as he drew the zipper of his coat higher to protect his neck from the cold. “I handled the Dockerys’ itineraries. I’m almost positive they made their flight to Texas well before the storm closed the airports. Obviously, I haven’t been in the office since everything happened, but they would have called me if there had been a problem with the booking.”
“I know they’re home,” Brett insisted, looking over her shoulder at the Dockerys’ house. “I saw a light turn on in their living room the other night.”
“Listen, why don’t you go back to the house with Chad and Louise?” Coen stepped away from the group. “I’ll check on the Dockerys and be over in a minute.”
“I’m coming with you,” Brett insisted, taking the lead and not stopping until she was standing on the Dockerys’ sidewalk that led to their front porch. “The faster we do this, the sooner we’ll be back home.”
“Is there some soup left on the stove?” Louise called out as she walked backward, using Chad’s arm as a guide. “I’m starving!”
“Ask my mom to heat you up some,” Brett called out as Coen joined her. She had a little bit of guilt at not wanting Chad and Louise to visit this afternoon. As a matter of fact, she didn’t want her mom and dad underfoot either. “I’m going to send my parents home. The duration of this investigation could take a while. There’s no need to have them here constantly underfoot.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Coen didn’t follow up with why he’d come to that conclusion, but it was easy to figure out. For some reason, being outside in the crisp, fresh air had given her a renewed sense of self. She was smiling at his reluctance to be alone with her as she set her boot on the first wooden step of the front porch, though her good humor was quickly wiped away when she slipped.
“Careful,” Coen muttered in concern. She quickly realized that it wasn’t because she’d lost her balance. Even through the thickness of her jacket, she could still feel the tightening of his grip. “I’m thinking Chad might be right about the Dockerys making their flight.”
Brett stared in confusion at three rolled newspapers wrapped in plastic. Three days had passed since Todd or Sylvia Dockery had stepped outside. Bobby, the fifteen-year-old down the street, always cleared her neighbor’s sidewalk and porch when it snowed, but Mr. Dockery would never go a day without reading the sports page.
“I want you to go back to the house like nothing is wrong. Now.” Coen slowly drew the zipper down on his jacket. “Call 911 and have them send the sheriff here immediately.”
“We don’t know that anything is wrong.” Brett didn’t think it was a good idea for Coen to search the property without backup, especially given the fact that Martin had been killed in a guarded jail cell. She searched the windows for any sign of life. “I know they’re home, Coen. I saw the living room light come on the night we first cleared my driveway. I know I did. They had electricity, too, because I remember hearing the generator humming near the side of their house.”
“If that’s the case, I’ll be the one to give them the soup you made them.” Coen shifted his body so that Brett couldn’t try to go up the porch stairs. He gave her a small smile of encouragement. “I promise to give you credit.”
“I can do that personally,” Brett insisted, refusing to leave him alone. He had to be overreacting. “It’s just newspapers, Coen. All that means is that they might have caught a flight out yesterday morning, the same as you.”
“Then why is there an undisturbed line of snow along the bottom of the garage door?” Coen’s cheeks were now tinged red, but that didn’t stop him from lowering the zipper on his jacket even farther. Her stomach fell a little at the realization that he wanted easy access to his weapon. “For once, just do as I ask, Brettany.”
*
Martin Eyles had been going to plead his innocence. Would the police have believed his claim? It was best to eliminate any threat, and he’d done so rather efficiently.
His only concern now was Brettany Lambert.
She was once again surrounded by officers and the infamous Coen Flynn.
She was seemingly impervious.
Only she wasn’t quite as untouchable as she thought…