Sudden Engagement. Julie Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ to a charmer like him. Way too smart.

      This time, she heard the weight of his tread on the threshold and knew he stood behind her. She pulled out her pen and notebook, and turned to meet him. “So, Mr. Taylor, do you think you can tell approximately when that alcove was built? And can you verify that it was built by a nonexpert? The mortar seemed to be inferior grade, falling apart. Maybe it wasn’t mixed together properly.”

      He answered her questions with a laugh. “You are one tough cookie, aren’t you.”

      Ginny lifted her gaze with a stern look that only seemed to fuel his good humor. “The term ‘cookie’ went out with girdles and seamed stockings. You can call me Ms. Rafferty or Detective.”

      He sputtered as he struggled to contain his laughter. “You can call me Brett.”

      “I don’t have to call you at all.”

      He jabbed a finger in the air at her. “That’s it. That’s the voice.”

      “What are you talking about?”

      His hands settled on his hips. “That tone of voice you get that says you are too tough to care. The one that could lay out a platoon of soldiers at fifty yards.”

      “If you’re referring to the tone of authority…”

      “I’m referring to the show you think you have to put on for people to take you seriously.”

      Ginny’s confusion puffed out on an abrupt sigh. “Excuse me?”

      “All you have to do is talk to me.” He leaned toward her, his height putting him head and shoulders above her. She tilted her face to maintain eye contact. He never stepped closer, never touched her. Yet she felt the breadth and power of him surrounding her, as if he hovered above her, circled around her. A show of force? Or a shield of protection? “You don’t have to talk down to me.”

      For a rare instant in time, she stood speechless. No clever zinger sprang to mind, no command seemed appropriate. No one had ever complained about her professional demeanor before. She never meant to be insulting. Damn him, anyway, for taking a criminal investigation and turning it into something personal.

      With a surprising degree of decorum, Brett was the first to resume business as usual. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet. He slid out a business card and pressed it into her hand.

      “Here’s my card. Call me if you need anything, or you find out something. I have a great deal of money and time and history invested in the Ludlow.”

      His odd statement triggered her curiosity, overrode her self-conscious habit of feigning emotional control. “History? What do you mean?”

      The look that darkened his face revealed Brett Taylor wasn’t all fun and games. But the grim expression was fleeting. He smiled once more, a handsome crease that formed dimples on either side of his mouth. Ginny wondered if, in her own hypercritical state, she had imagined his quick revelation of sorrow. But he gave no explanation.

      “In answer to your questions about the wall, I’d say it was put up ten, twelve years ago. And yes, the mortar work was amateurish. Maybe done in haste, maybe done by someone who didn’t know any better.”

      She jotted down the information, too dutiful a cop to do otherwise, but her attention remained focused on his previous cryptic words. “You didn’t answer my question. What history are you talking about with the Ludlow? Is it related to the murder?”

      “No. It’s just that…” He stuffed his wallet into his back pocket. Ginny recognized the procrastination of buying time before an unpleasant task. But to his credit, he looked her straight in the eye before answering.

      “That’s not the first dead body I’ve seen at the Ludlow Arms.”

      Chapter Two

      “Got a new case?”

      Ginny Rafferty turned to the cemetery’s caretaker and nodded. The chocolate-brown eyes set deep in the wrinkles of the African-American man’s face looked as old as she felt. “It’s that obvious, John?”

      With his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coveralls, he twisted his face into a sympathetic frown. “You make this pilgrimage out here every time you take on an unsolved murder.”

      She turned back to the pink granite headstone, with the name Rafferty engraved upon it. “Maybe once I can solve all the rest of them, I’ll get a chance to finally solve hers.”

      More than a casual acquaintance, John McBride shared a sad, unique bond with Ginny. He might be one of the few people who understood her need to come to this remote haven nestled between busy Truman Road and Twenty-four Highway time and time again. He shrugged his shoulders and offered a fatherly smile. “It’s gettin’ dark. I’ll have to close the gates soon.”

      “Give me a couple of minutes. Then I’ll ride down with you.”

      “Sure.”

      She watched him walk down the hill to his truck, his dignity unbowed by age or sorrow. Everyone coped with loss in his or her own way. Maybe one day she’d move beyond hers and find the acceptance that John seemed to have found.

      Until then, she’d maintain her solitary vigil. She’d hang on to the love and loyalty she’d once forsaken in the pursuit of her own misguided dreams. The chilly spring rain drizzled along her cheeks, side by side with the single tear that scorched her skin.

      The trees that surrounded the hills of Mount Washington Cemetery muffled the sounds of Kansas City at twilight. The haunting silence wrapped her up in its lonely hug, a small comfort for all she had lost.

      She understood that the rest of the world moved on, despite her grief. Despite her guilt. But part of her would never understand why.

      Twelve years had passed. And she still didn’t understand.

      John had become the closest thing she had to a friend over the years. They’d first met the day of her sister’s funeral. He’d been kind enough to let her stay, long after the funeral had ended, long after the guests had departed to a reception at her parents’ Mission Hills home.

      She’d been gone a year and a half before that, painting in Europe, losing her heart, learning some harsh truths about life, while Amy learned a harsh truth of her own on a deserted pier in downtown Kansas City.

      Like this evening, John had waited with her until after dark the night of Amy’s funeral. Then he called for a taxi and paid her fare, even though she had money of her own.

      Six months later, she’d lost her mother to a bottleful of the sedatives that were meant to help her cope with the loss of a child. John had been a good friend that day, too. She had needed one. With her father steeped in grief, Ginny had withdrawn to the fringes of the ceremony. An easy enough task for a shy creature like herself. She took a vow that day, made a promise to her sister and her mother. Planned her own quiet rebellion.

      John had found her then, much as she was today, standing in the rain, swearing all kinds of vengeance on the world. He’d told her of his son, an officer in the State Highway Patrol, who’d been slain in the line of duty. He shared his feelings of pride and mourning for СКАЧАТЬ