Protective Duty. Jessica R. Patch

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СКАЧАТЬ She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. Was she second-guessing herself? Overthinking? Bringing up Ohio had flustered her. A sheen of sweat beaded around her forehead, and her long lashes fluttered against her skin as she rapidly blinked.

      “So, you up for some barbecue later? We gotta eat, and if I remember right you can tear up some ribs.”

      She frowned, then grinned. “No, you like ribs. I like chicken. You have a terrible memory.”

      But she’d smiled, and the lines across her forehead had smoothed out. “Maybe it was me that liked ribs. Either way, by the time we finish here and the studio downtown, we’ll be close to the Rendezvous. And they should be open by then.”

      “Hmm... I somehow feel set up to satisfy your pork habit.”

      Technically she had been set up, but not for food. Note to self: do not bring up Cleveland. If and when Bryn wanted to tell him what happened and why she transferred, she would. Unless it was the reason she’d been hurt, and if that was the case he’d find out the details on his own. “What can I say...the stomach wants what the stomach wants.”

      Her cell phone rang, and she snagged it from her coat pocket. “Agent Eastman.” She shifted toward the window and lowered her voice. “Yes, I remember. Thank you for calling.” She hung up and went to town clutching the belt on her coat again, leaving wrinkles in the fabric.

      “So this is me being nosy.”

      “This is me telling you to mind your own business.” She flashed a mock smile and batted her lashes, but distress filled her eyes. How long could he go without pressing her to share what happened in Cleveland? Everything in him wanted to lean over and comfort her, to tell her whatever it was she was safe now. But it wasn’t his place anymore, and that bothered him. They were partners only. Not that partners didn’t care or worry about each other, but he couldn’t see himself reaching over and stroking Luke’s hand. Picture her with scruff.

      Nope. Didn’t work. He flashed his badge to the attendant working the booth and entered a gated community set on a golf course. Brick homes with French shutters dotted perfectly manicured lawns. Fall wreaths graced front doors, pots of mums and whatever else those fall flowers were lined sidewalks and weaved between bushes. The kinds of homes and communities Eric had grown up in.

      “You still play?”

      “Harmonica?” he joked.

      Bryn gave him a wooden look. “You know what I’m talking about.”

      Golf. “Sometimes. But only when I want to.”

      Eric could have gone pro. Almost had. But he’d attended a Royal Family Kids’ Camp sponsored by his church and things changed. Seeing so many abused and neglected children had tugged his heart in ways golf never could. People who hurt children—abused anyone for that matter—deserved justice. So he’d entered the police academy. But Dad and Mom didn’t quite understand the concept of God’s leading. According to them, life was what people made it. Destiny was acquired by going after dreams and desires without the need for God’s plans.

      “Good for you, I guess. I always enjoyed watching you play.”

      He turned and grinned. Sadness mixed with regret. “I always knew you were there for me. No ulterior motives. No pressure if I won or lost.”

      “Kinda like you attending my swim meets.”

      This was winding down a serious path. Emotions were surfacing that he couldn’t allow. Too much damage had been done when Abby died. “Well, I have to admit, I was mostly there to see you in a swimsuit.”

      She laughed. “You’re such a guy.” Bryn had let his remark go, but Eric knew that deep down she didn’t believe that for a second. He’d been there to support her because he cared about her. Her drive and passion were contagious. Even now, he felt it in her skills as an agent.

      “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

      “Whatever lights your fuse.”

      “Do you still swim?” Eric weaved through the subdivision. Large sweet gums towered overhead. An array of gold, red and orange leaves swayed with the fall breeze. Not the best day for golfing.

      “Yes. As therapy.” She frowned at the word therapy as if it coated her tongue in acid. “I joined a gym not far from Holt’s rental house. Bought a new swimsuit...and a dog.” She sighed. “You golf with your partner? Luke?”

      “Luke? Golf? Hardly. But if I wanted to suffer some punishment and box, I’d call him first. I play a few games every now and then with my dad.”

      “Really?” Surprise lit her face.

      “He stopped hounding me about getting back into the game when my profession became useful to him.”

      The air in the SUV grew thick. He hadn’t thought his answer through. He’d said he wouldn’t bring up the past and then did anyway.

      Bryn rubbed her hand against her thigh. “How...how are your parents?”

      Eric pulled into a circular drive and cut the engine.

      Brave question.

      “Our lives were altered forever, Bryn. How do you think they’re doing?”

      “Just for the record,” she said, “our lives were altered, too. We live with the guilt of what Rand did to not just Abby but the three girls he murdered before her. I grew up with him, and I never knew the darkness in him. I feel guilty for that, as well.”

      Eric clenched his jaw. “I know. Let’s just not talk about it right now, okay?”

      He’d rather focus on finding the man killing these women than reliving the tragedy in his own life.

THREE

      Bryn white-knuckled her steering wheel as she drove to the therapist’s downtown office. The stop at the Danforth residence had been a bust. Mr. Danforth was out of town at a conference until next week. The housemaid had been charmed by Eric. He was good at that. Naturally sweet to everyone. He even had the woman promising to make him empanadas next time he swung by. After that, they ran by the station that taped Wake-Up Memphis.

      Bridgette Danforth’s cohost, Anderson Tawdle, was as plastic as they came, and it was clear there was no love lost on his part, but then Bridgette had been trying to get him fired so she could bring in an all-female cast. That gave Anderson motive to kill her but not the other three victims.

      Turned out Bridgette had a massage appointment with her lifelong friend, Sandra Logan, who owned an animal clinic in Germantown. Animals happened to be one of Bridgette’s many causes. Causes that she promoted with boldness on her TV show, creating many reasons to hate her. She had mail to verify it.

      The interviews had taken longer than Bryn expected, so she canceled on lunch. Eric seemed disappointed and pried to find out why she had to leave in the middle of the day.

      Seeing Dr. Elliot Warner wasn’t anyone’s business. She didn’t need colleagues thinking she was unstable or incompetent. Even if seeing a therapist was protocol, it was still humiliating, especially since СКАЧАТЬ