Fatal Deception (Bent County Protectors), page 9
Then her phone rang, and they both jolted apart. Like caught, guilty teenagers.
For a moment, maybe just a second, they stared at each other, maybe in mutual shock. What had they been thinking?
But then she looked down and pulled the phone out of her pocket. He didn’t miss the way her hand shook. The way she cleared her throat and licked her lips. And that was the problem.
He could deal with a little one-sided and inappropriate lust. It was a harder thing to do when the feeling was clearly mutual. That was going to lead to a very dangerous mistake.
“I-it’s Thomas,” she said, looking at the screen of her phone very, very intently. “Vi must have had the baby.”
He gave a sharp nod, moved into a standing position, and tried to be very grateful about the perfect timing of the baby’s arrival as Audra answered the phone.
Instead, he just felt edgy and irritable.
And it was all her fault.
Chapter Ten
Audra felt like she’d touched an electric fence. Her skin vibrated. And it wasn’t a pleasant sensation.
Mostly because there was no cure. Except something very, very, very stupid.
And that wouldn’t solve anything. Copeland Beckett was no knight in shining armor, even if he could look at her like that and turn all that frustration and anger into something else entirely.
She swiped the screen of her phone to answer the call before it went to voice mail, trying to pretend Copeland wasn’t still closer than she wanted him to be.
And somehow not close enough at all.
“Hi, Thomas,” she greeted, wincing at how shaky she sounded.
But Thomas must not have noticed, thank goodness.
“Baby’s here. Fox Frederick Hart. Twenty-one inches. Eight pounds even. Pictures incoming. They’re both doing great, and Vi said she’s up for visitors whenever you want to come out.”
It was the best distraction she could have hoped for. She could stop thinking about that low throb in the pit of her stomach, and the way Copeland’s dark eyes hooked right into her and focus on new babies and family.
“Fox, oh, isn’t that a perfect name? Magnolia and Fox. I love it. I’m going to head out right now. Can I pick anything up on the way?”
“No. Between my parents and Vi’s, we’re drowning in just about anything we could need. We aren’t going anywhere. I think she’s going to video-call Franny. Too late in Italy to call Rosalie just yet, but we’ll get there eventually. Vi just wants to see you, but no rush. Whenever you get here is just fine.”
“I’m on my way. I can’t wait. See you in a few.” She clicked End. She didn’t want to acknowledge Copeland, but she had to. Even if she didn’t want a ride into town, she didn’t want to fight with him over it. And worse, she didn’t think she could drive very well with her ankle feeling the way it did.
He’d stood, taken a few steps back, but he regarded her with those intense dark eyes, and that stern expression made all the more stern by the stubble of the equally dark beard.
Just looking at him made her stomach do leaps and left her completely speechless.
“You need to stay off that foot,” he said, which reminded her that words existed and so did her own will.
“I need to meet my honorary nephew.”
“He’ll still be around in a few days.”
“I’m going to the hospital, Copeland. You can drive me, or I can drive myself. But I’m going.” She even pushed off the couch to prove it. She put all her weight on her left foot and speared him with a stern look to rival his own.
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Enjoy a bum ankle for weeks. What do I care? I’ll drop you off like I said. I imagine you’ll want to spend a few hours.”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “That’ll give me time to head over to the station. Sit down and get your shoes on.”
“I’ve got a present. It’s upstairs.” She gestured at the stairs.
“And I suppose you’d like me to get it?”
“I can—”
“Hell, Audra, just ask.”
She didn’t want to. She really, really hated asking for things, but hobbling up the stairs would be embarrassing and no doubt bad for the ankle. But she could leave it, give it to Vi later…
And that was too stubborn even for her. “Would you please get the present that’s up on my dresser in my bedroom? It’s wrapped with a bow, just sitting on the top.”
“Did it kill you?”
“Not immediately, but maybe it will. A slow, silent death.”
He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled and shook his head. It wasn’t fair, that rare smile, that rare humor. Not at all fair that it had her insides getting all mushy. She much preferred the buzzing anger/attraction from fighting over anything that made her feel soft toward him.
He disappeared upstairs and she worked to get her boot on. She tested putting some weight on it. She could get by with a little limp, and not too, too much pain.
When he returned it was with the present, and a bottle of something in his hand. He tossed the present on the couch next to her, then disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with a glass of water, and two little pills she figured were ibuprofen in the other.
“Take those.”
“Has anyone ever ordered you around?”
“Sure. I went through the police academy.”
“And how much did you like it?”
He shrugged. “Part and parcel.”
She scowled at him but took the pills because it was the sensible thing to do, even if she wouldn’t mind being asked.
He didn’t carry her to the car, which she was glad about. Certainly not disappointed. But he helped her hobble over to it, carrying the present under his other arm.
The drive to the hospital was mostly silent. He turned the radio on at just enough volume to discourage speaking. Audra figured that was best. They’d probably just argue.
But in the silence, she found herself wondering about things she shouldn’t. Like his ex-wife. Like what kind of husband he’d been. Like the fact he had been very uncomfortable the other night around Magnolia.
He pulled into a parking spot in the front of the hospital. “What lie are you going to hand out for why you’re limping?” he asked as he shoved his car into Park.
“I’m not going to lie. I’m going to say I tripped and fell, which I did.”
“Over a damn grave hole,” he muttered.
“It wasn’t deep enough to be a grave hole.”
“Do you ever just let things go?”
“I let everything go. You’re the one who doesn’t let things go.”
He just shook his head. “You got it from here?”
“Aren’t you coming in?”
“Nah, going to head into the station. I’ve got too much to do. Just text when you’re ready to head back.”
She hesitated then, knowing that she’d do best to stop thinking about him, wondering about him, poking into his personal life. She’d do best to treat him like what he was. A detective on a case she was involved in. Beginning and end.
She couldn’t manage it, because too many things added up, and now that she knew he had an ex-wife… She just had to know. “You don’t…have a child, do you?”
He didn’t look at her, stared straight ahead, his hands still on the steering wheel, but there was a tension in him. Still, his answer relieved some of hers. “No.”
“It’s just… You get a little…fidgety around Magnolia. When the topic of kids comes up, and now, you won’t even come in and see the baby and… I just didn’t know if it’s something I should avoid. If—”
“I don’t have a kid,” he repeated. Stiffly this time, and with something in his eyes that she might have called haunted if she thought someone like Copeland had feelings.
Still, it was something. “But there’s a sore spot there?” she pressed, not fully recognizing herself. She wasn’t a presser. Though she did hate to accidentally tread on soft spots.
He sighed. It was the only sign he wasn’t fully made of stone. “Sure. Sore spot. Yeah.”
She couldn’t imagine what it meant, but it made her heart hurt for him. “Okay. I’ll be gentle around it.”
He glared at her. “I’m a tough guy, Audra. You don’t need to be gentle.”
But that was just silly. “Everyone needs a little gentle, no matter how tough they are.” She gave him a small smile. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
* * *
FIRST, COPELAND DROVE home and packed a bag of his things so he could stop borrowing Audra’s dead dad’s stuff. Then he drove to the police station. Grumbled some greetings before he made it to the detectives’ office.
Where he would dive into work and forget about gentle.
Laurel was there but was clearly in the process of getting all her stuff together to leave. She glanced up at him.
“You been to the hospital yet?” she asked.
Copeland considered his answer. Yes wouldn’t be a lie, but if she went in and talked to Hart, he’d be found out as a liar, and then they’d both demand to know why. “Not yet. I needed to get a few things done first.”
She nodded, slipping a cross-body bag over her shoulder. “You still going to be MIA here tomorrow?”
“Unless another more pressing case comes up. I’ve got some leads on the Young shooting. Another little…weird happenstance. In fact, I’d like your take if you’ve got a few.”
“Shoot.”
He went over it with Laurel, wanting someone else’s opinion on the matter. Because on the surface, this was all weird, petty scare tactics. But underneath it was all about death, and that was threatening. Not to mention the sheer amount of time and effort that was going into all these things.
“The father’s second family is definitely something to look into,” Laurel agreed. She’d taken a seat on the edge of the desk she shared with him. “But the way they’re doing these things without leaving any clues, any evidence, it speaks to more local. Someone who knows the ins and outs of that ranch, of the system.”
“She’s got security, but it never seems to be where she needs it.” He chewed over that. Someone who knew the ranch well. Could it connect to the Kirks? All the trouble they’d had last year? It didn’t sit right, but he’d have to look in to it. “It just doesn’t add up.”
“My advice? Don’t try to make things add up. People’s motives don’t have to. Keep following the evidence. Anything from the crematorium yet?”
“No, still wading through the red tape. Whoever runs the cemetery lives in California, and the maintenance guy I talked to didn’t have any information. I’ve tried to figure out who made the stone, or engraved it, but I’m going to need records from the cemetery.”
“I’ll follow up on some of the phone calls tomorrow for you, see if it needs a woman’s touch.” She said that to irritate him like she always did, but he couldn’t be ungrateful for the help. “Put Vicky on the records stuff. She’s good at cutting through the red tape, and it’s hard for you to do cozied up on the Young Ranch.”
He snorted at the word cozied. “Yeah, it’s a laugh a minute.”
Laurel studied him, and he didn’t like it. Especially when she changed the subject to something that made no sense.
“Did I ever tell you how I met my husband?”
“No, and you’ll be shocked to hear this—I don’t care.” Not that he wasn’t a little curious how the buttoned-up, professional, pain-in-his-ass Laurel had ended up with her bearded, tattooed, wild-looking husband.
She’d tell him anyway, but he kept up the image of not caring and went to his desk and pulled out his laptop. Booted it up and pretended like Laurel wasn’t still standing there.
“It was a case. I was a newly minted detective, and Grady’s half brother was suspected of murder. Clint’s a mess, but he’s no murderer.”
He kept his gaze on the laptop. “Super.”
“Grady was the opposite of me in every single way. Rival family even.”
This time he did look at her. “Only in these backward places do you have rival families.”
She grinned. “Bad news, Copeland, and I think you might already know this, though you’ll pretend not to. You love this ‘backward’ place.”
He scowled back down at his computer. Maybe Bent County wasn’t so bad, but he wasn’t about to admit it out loud.
“So Grady and I worked together to get to the bottom of it,” she said, because Laurel never took a hint or even a direct no for an answer. “What do they call it? Forced proximity. One thing led to another, and here I am, all these years later. A husband and four kids under my belt.”
“Good for you.”
“It is. Really good. Because this job can be a black cloud, and it’s good to have a reminder—whether it’s family or friends—that there is good in the world.”
He looked up at her again. “Do I look like I need some kind of weird pep talk?”
She met his gaze, both serious, instead of their usual ragging on each other. “Yeah, you do.” She tapped her hand against the desk. “Email what you need done to Vicky. I’ll talk to her if she has any questions. And visit Hart at the hospital. You’re part of this community, whether you like it or not.”
He didn’t like it, he told himself, pulling up his inbox so he could write an email to Vicky. In fact, he hated it. Maybe he’d put in his two weeks. Head down south to sunshine and absolutely no ties. Yeah. That sounded good.
And even while he pretended, he knew he never would.
Chapter Eleven
The overjoyed parents were too besotted with their perfect, wonderful bundle to notice Audra limping. She got to sit and hold Fox in his perfect preciousness. She read an impatient and grumpy Magnolia a book for a little while to keep her occupied. She chatted with Thomas’s parents, and Vi’s dad, who carefully tiptoed around the subject of Audra’s father, his cousin.
All in all, it was nice. It was refreshing to be in a happy environment, with family and friends and love and hope and excitement. For a little while, she relaxed and didn’t think about being behind on chores or all the things happening to her that seemed harmless but had a whole lot of death in common.
She got sucked into life, and it felt wonderful.
Just when she was starting to consider texting Copeland because it was clear Vi was getting tired, even if she said she wanted everyone to stay, he appeared.
He brought flowers with a little balloon that said It’s A Boy tucked into it. No doubt from the hospital gift shop, but it was still a sweet gesture. One that made Audra’s heart mushy again.
“Do you want to hold him?” Thomas asked, angling the bundle toward Copeland.
Copeland stepped back as if Thomas was offering a grenade. “Nah, I like ’em a little sturdier. Congrats and all, though. I’m going to take Audra back, if that’s alright.”
Audra got to her feet, didn’t wince. The ibuprofen had helped, and even if she hadn’t elevated her ankle, she’d stayed mostly off it. She bent over the baby bundle, gave Fox’s forehead a gentle kiss. She gave Thomas a hug, Vi a hug, and Mags a big squeeze. Exchanged goodbyes with all the happy grandparents, then followed Copeland out of the hospital room, high on family and love.
“Here,” Copeland muttered, taking her arm so she could lean on him a little bit while she limped.
And that was nice too. She couldn’t depend on it. She probably shouldn’t even enjoy it. There was no one to lean on in this life except herself.
Which was the depressing pinprick to her bubble of happiness. Once in Copeland’s car, it was another silent ride back. So silent, Audra actually dozed off in the passenger seat. She woke up, groggy and out of sorts, realizing only after a few blinks that the car wasn’t moving.
They were parked. In front of her house. The world was dark around it, but lights shone on the porch and upstairs. He must have left them on since she knew she hadn’t. He must have done it on purpose, with forethought to when they’d return.
Her heart ached. She wanted someone to do that sort of thing, someone to lean on, and yet she never let herself lean, so where did that get her?
Alone with no one to lean on.
But not disappointed. Not hurt. Just…drowning, apparently.
She shook her head. It was just this weird threat thing. It was messing with her equilibrium. Once it was solved, and Copeland was back where he belonged, she’d be back to normal again.
He was getting something out of the back of the car, so she pushed out of her seat. She limped toward the house, but Copeland quickly caught up. He had a duffel on his shoulder but grabbed her arm. “What part of staying off your feet is difficult for you to comprehend?”
She decided to ignore him. “It was nice of you to bring flowers.”
He shrugged. “That’s what people do, I guess.”
“But you were going to avoid it.” They stepped into the cozy living room. She turned to look at him. “What changed your mind?”
“I wasn’t going to avoid it. I just had some work to do first.”
She opened her mouth to delve into that, then remembered she’d promised not to poke at his sore spots, so she just nodded.
“Hungry?” She moved for the fridge, realized she should have asked him to stop at the grocery store. The only thing she had to offer was eggs.
She pulled out the egg carton, glanced at him to ask him if he had any preference for how she prepared the eggs, but he was standing there, scowling, something angry and volatile pumping off him.
That sore spot, vibrating with pain. She desperately wanted to know what had caused it, how to soothe it. She wanted to know so much, but she’d promised…
“Fine. If it’ll get you to stop looking at me like that, fine.”
A little stung, she tried to argue with him, because she was trying to let it go. “I’m not looking—”
“It’s nothing, but you’re not going to let it go.”
Completely offended now, she set down the eggs a little too hard. “I—”
