Reasonable Doubt. Tracey V. Bateman

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      Feather-soft lips brushed across hers. Never had Keri experienced the feelings springing to life in her heart in that moment. Justin, her friend, her hero and now the first boy ever to kiss her. It seemed right.

      Only his aunt interrupted the beautiful moment. “Justin!”

      He pulled away and jumped to his feet. A long silent stare followed, then he sprinted toward the edge of the woods.

      “I love you,” Keri called after him. “I won’t forget you, I promise.”

      He turned. “I’ll be back,” he promised before disappearing into the trees.

      “I’ll wait,” she whispered. “I’ll never forget you.”

      The squeal of tires accosted Keri’s attention and she jerked around. A blur of red shot past the parking lot, weaving down the road. Horns blared as the pickup narrowly missed a black sedan and a blue hatchback.

      “Gotta go, Rave.”

      “What do you mean you have to—”

      Making a grab for the strobe light, Keri punched off the phone and switched on her siren. Junior Connor—already drunk at 7:00 p.m.—was headed for the bar, which meant he’d brought along his own booze. Mentally, she racked up the charges, from DUI to open container, to manslaughter if she didn’t get to him before he got to that group of teens hanging out on the corner.

      Anger boiled her blood as she slammed the SUV into gear and burned out after the pickup. She wasn’t about to sit by and let that lush take out someone’s kid. Not on her watch.

      Red digital numbers glared; it was just past midnight. Punching his pillow, Justin let out a half growl as he replayed today’s interrogation over and over in his head. He was sick of being called in for questioning by those goons, sick of not knowing who had killed Amelia, and even more sick of being the only suspect the police seemed to have.

      Helplessness sliced at his gut like a dagger. So far, he’d sat back and done pretty much nothing while the detectives worked to find anything to pin Amelia’s murder on his shoulders. He was a sitting duck, just waiting to be arrested for a murder he didn’t commit.

      Releasing a heavy sigh, he flopped over. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he stared toward the ceiling. He needed a vacation. A long, peaceful vacation somewhere away from the media attention, away from the stress of the city and wondering each morning if this might be the day when his worst nightmare became a reality. He closed his eyes, and his mind conjured the image of the only vacation spot he’d ever known.

      Until his parents’ deaths, he’d spent time every summer at the Mahoney cabin on Lake Bennett. He could almost smell the crisp clean lake, could almost see the sun reflecting off wind-rippled water. A flash of freckles on cheeks just below enormous green eyes joined the nostalgic images. His girl. His lips curved upward as he finally succumbed to his fatigue and drifted to sleep.

      Justin awoke slowly, battling the fading images of a sweet, sweet dream, one he didn’t want to forget. He fought to remember a face surrounded by riotous red curls, and pea-green eyes invaded his consciousness.

      “Keri,” he whispered into the still-darkened room. He sat up.

      Determination sent a jolt through his stomach. He was going to do it! Take the boys on a vacation like the ones he’d enjoyed growing up. The Mahoney cabin at Lake Bennett. The twins would love the lake. Too bad it wasn’t summertime. Trout fishing and cutoff shorts were out of the question this time of year, but even in winter, a couple of nine-year-old boys would find plenty to pique their interest.

      He couldn’t bear the thought of the boys spending Thanksgiving in the house where their mother had been murdered. Josh’s outbursts and nightmares were getting worse. The kid definitely needed a little time away. By this time next year, he hoped, they would be able to put the house on the market and begin the process of putting all of this behind them. He prayed so.

      Justin raked his fingers through hair that could have used a pair of scissors three weeks ago. The police had never told him he was under any kind of restriction to stay in Kansas City. He supposed it was implied, possibly understood. But certainly not mandated.

      At a sudden ping, ping against the window, he pushed back the covers, swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked across the freezing wooden floor.

      His gut clenched as he recognized the falling ice. If he waited much longer, the curvy roads between here and the cabin might not be drivable. On a good day, it was a two-hour drive. If this weather didn’t let up, he was looking at three, four, maybe five hours.

      The red digital numbers on the bedside clock glowed 4:30 a.m. Too early to call Mr. Mahoney and ask about using the cabin. He’d try to find a number to call once he was on the road. If he couldn’t rent the Mahoney cabin, there were several others on the lake, a couple of them rentals, as he recalled. Grabbing a suitcase from the closet, he slung it on the bed and started packing.

      Fifteen years. That’s how long he’d been away. He couldn’t help but remember that last day sitting with Keri on the bank overlooking the lake. He smiled at the memory of her sweet kiss. A first for them both.

      Was she still in Briarwood? He didn’t count on seeing her, not in this weather and considering the cabin was at least an hour’s drive away from the small town where he’d spent the first fourteen years of his life. Still, the memories were sweet, and he couldn’t help but wonder how her life had panned out. Better than his, he hoped.

      The twins mumbled their displeasure when he woke them a few moments later.

      “Where’re we going, Dad?” Billy asked with a yawn.

      “You’ll find out.” He settled the boys at the kitchen table. Made them toast, then snatched a leftover ham from the fridge. Just as he started to slice through the meat to make sandwiches for the road, a thud caught his attention, he turned and felt the pain in his finger as the blade nicked the tender flesh of his thumb.

      He winced. “What happened?”

      “Billy fell out of his chair.”

      “You all right, Billy?”

      The child sat up on the floor, sleepy-eyed but nodding. “I’m okay.”

      “You’re bleeding, Dad.” Josh’s voice rang with tension.

      Justin glanced at his throbbing finger. Blood dripped onto the floor. He turned quickly to the sink and ran his finger under the water, grateful it wasn’t a deep cut. He grabbed a bandage and covered the wound.

      When he turned back around, Josh had wiped up the blood from the floor. However, the boy’s face had also lost all color and he sat holding the rag in his hand.

      “Here, give me that, son.”

      Josh relinquished the cloth and turned away.

      With a sigh, Justin ruffled his head. “You two get some movies and toys. Only what will fit in your schoolbags.”

      He watched them, Billy scrambling with his usual fervor, Josh slinking away as though he couldn’t care less.

      A wave of helplessness washed СКАЧАТЬ