Blood Ties (30 page)

“Too?”

“Yes,

too
.” I stabbed my cigarette at him. “You haven’t 318

exactly been eager to hang with me.”

“I’ve been working strange hours on a surveillance case involving employee theft.”

“Why didn’t you ask for my help?”

He lifted a brow. “You willing to come to work for me full-time?”

“We’ve talked about this.” I paused, wondering how things would change between us if we were in each other’s faces every day. Th

is one case had caused unbearable strain on our friendship. God, I couldn’t deal with more failure in my life. Especially not where Kevin was concerned.

“Jules?” he said softly.

I dragged my gaze back to his. “I’m not sure.”

“I know.” He angled the crumpled Coors can at me.

“I’ll remind you I pay better than the county.”

“True.” I ran my fi nger around the rim of my shot glass. “But, I’m not the most even-tempered person in the world. I’d hate for . . .”

“For God’s sake, I’m not one of those stupid guys you sucker in with your promise of unlimited sex but run at fi rst sign of your crappy temperament.” He cracked open yet another beer. “I’m used to your mood swings. I need your offi

ce expertise, you know, basic stuff I don’t have time to sort out, but fortunately, you excel at.”

I shook my head. “Understand this.
If
I work for you, it won’t be in a secretarial capacity.”

He paused, letting his gaze bore into me. “At this 319

point, I’ll take whatever I can get from you.”

Th

e implication was there, but unclear. Was it wishful thinking? Or, the alcohol talking?

Kevin didn’t comment further, but his eyes fl icked to the star quilt drooping off the couch, then to the RC

Gorman lithograph and gigantic dream catcher hanging side-by-side on the wall. He pointed to the lopsided clay bowl on the chrome end table. “Where’d you get that?”

“Antique store in Keystone. Why?”

“It looks like . . .” He waved abstractedly. “Never mind.”

“So, you’ve been busy. Is that why you didn’t tell me what’s been going on with you and Lilly?”

“Partially. You’ve had your own problems with this case and with Ray.” He drained the rest of his beer and grimaced. “I have a pretty good idea of what Lilly wants to discuss. I just don’t know what I’ll do.”

I braced myself with another shot. “What do you think she wants?”

“A

commitment.”

“Seriously?” I sucked a lime, but the bitterness lingering in my mouth wasn’t from the overpowering citrus.

“Truthfully, you haven’t been together that long.”

“A year is a lot longer than
you’ve
managed to last with any guy.”

“True.” But, we both knew length of time didn’t have shit to do with the value of the relationship.

320

“Anyway, she’s been making those noises lately.”

Th

ere wasn’t enough booze in the world to dull the sharp pain stabbing near my heart. I fi gured I’d test that theory plenty of times if he and Lilly became a permanent item. “Is that what you want?”

No

answer.

“Do you love her?”

He shoved both hands through his hair and threw his arms over his head. “I don’t know.”

“Who am I supposed to ask?”

Kevin glowered at me and I felt more ashamed than when I’d sobbed in his arms. It hurt to think he cared so much for her. I’d wanted to hurt him back, but I hadn’t expected the ricochet eff ect.

“It’s not that easy to answer. Some days I think, yes, I love her. Some days she’s so clingy and needy I almost hate her.” He refi lled his shot glass. “Bottom line? She’s not you.” His laugh held a knife edge. He lifted the golden liquid to his mouth in a mock salute. “Th en again, you’re

not her.” Once he’d emptied the glass, he slammed it back on the glass table with a sickening crack.

Loud, thick, silence developed that scared me to the bone.

When he swayed to his feet, I stumbled to mine in an eff ort to steady him. I wasn’t exactly unaff ected by the amount of liquor we’d consumed in such a short time, but he’d had a head start. We looked like some drunken losers 321

as I half-pulled, half-fell onto the couch with him.

“I think I’m drunk,” he groaned.

“You’re allowed.” I grabbed his hand when he made to reach for the bottle of tequila. “But, enough for a while, okay? You can crash here.”

His eyes opened when I entwined our fi ngers, like I’d done a million times before.

But this time was diff erent.

Sitting hip-to-thigh, I shifted forward to escape. His hand slid up my arm to stop the departure. Th e gentle motion brought me back around to face him. He swept the hair from my bruised cheek, watching my reaction.

His gaze wasn’t the blurry, bloodshot one of a drunken man. His green eyes were completely focused on me.

Warm hands traveled up my neck and lightly cupped my face. “Julie,” he said softly.

“Kevin.” I resisted closing my eyes at the odd sensation of his caresses. “Don’t.”

“I can’t help it.”

His

fi ngers smoothed over my temple, slipped into my hair, gripped my head, keeping it in place. For once, I let myself get lost in his eyes.

He lowered his mouth, brushing tender kisses over my lips, over my cheekbones, my chin, muttering unintelli-gible words against my fl ushed skin.

I forgot to breathe and the dizzy sensation wasn’t from the overindulgence of tequila.

322

Kevin settled his lips over mine, sweeping his tongue inside.

I sank into his mouth without hesitation.

An occasional friendly peck was all we’d allowed ourselves. We’d never kissed like this. Th e loving strokes of his

hands didn’t veer out of control. I’d imagined his reverent touches, but those fantasies paled against the erotic, yet familiar feel of him. I tasted tequila, beer, and the faint fl avor of my tobacco as our mouths, our souls, everything we were mingled and seemed to synchronize into one being.

In one movement, he lifted me to his lap. Hands once gentle explored with determination. I touched his chest, urging him to take what we both wanted. Th e sweet kiss

turned hungry and insistent.

I pressed my body to his and arched back when he broke away. I opened my eyes, afraid of what I’d see in his.

Afraid of what he’d see in mine.

Kevin’s head was slumped against the back of the couch. His eyes remained shut, yet one hand was clasped with mine while the other twined in my hair, his knuckles grazing my breast in an off hand manner that didn’t feel casual. It was comforting and disconcerting as hell. I didn’t want the moment to end. I was sorry it’d ever begun.

Leaning forward, I rested my sweaty forehead to his, ignoring the warnings fl ashing in my brain. “What?”

He rubbed his face over my temple, my cheek, my ear, until his breath expelled as an exhausted sigh. “What am I 323

going to do?”

Not

we
. I.

I refrained from blurting out the obvious answer. Realistically, this had nothing to do with me. I couldn’t off er him whatever it was he got from being with Lilly. I didn’t know if whatever it was I off ered him was enough. Or ever would be. Kevin needed to make a decision and I had no business handing out advice. So, I didn’t. I kissed him softly, equal parts regret and yearning as I untangled from his embrace. He didn’t stop me. His eyes stayed closed when I stretched out his limbs and tucked the quilt around him. “Sleep on it. We’ll talk later.”

He nodded off instantly.

We didn’t talk later.

“Kevin.” I shook him. “Kevin. Wake up. You gotta see this.”

“What?” His feet dropped to the fl oor. “Where am I?”

How much would he remember from before he passed out? By the blank expression on his face, probably not much. I didn’t know whether or not I should feel relieved.

“Th

e news.” I turned up the volume.

“What are you babbl . . .”

“Ssh. Here it is.”

Th

e raven-haired newscaster’s eyes took on a somber look. “Tragedy struck a local Catholic church today upon the discovery of the body of Father Tim O’Reilly. According to authorities, the church is undergoing an extensive 324

remodeling project and it appears Father Tim fell from the balcony choir loft some time last night. Th e protective

railing had been removed earlier in the week. In light of this accident, all Sunday services at St. Augustine’s are cancelled. A candlelight vigil is planned for tomorrow night at the cathedral. Services are pending and any memorial funds may be sent directly to the main diocese offi ce.”

I

fl ipped to the other local news station and caught the tail end of the interview with a couple of priests who expounded on Father Tim’s virtues.

Horror leached into my bones and they felt brittle enough to shatter. Another death of someone involved in this case. Someone we knew. I shut the TV off and fumbled for my cigarettes.

“Is this another coincidence?” I asked Kevin, his face an unreadable mask.

“No.” He grunted, swinging his legs to the fl oor.

“Sounds like an accident. Th

ey do happen.”

I looked at him. He wasn’t referring to what had trans-pired between us a few hours ago. But, my sense of relief morphed into another bout of gloom: Father Tim was dead. Why?

“I thought he was on mini-sabbatical at the camp. Did he ever get a hold of you?”

“No.”

“Don’t you think this is related to Sam and Shelley’s deaths?”

325

He shook his head and stood with caution. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll call Ritchie at the Rapid City PD

and ask him if they suspect foul play.”

“But, she said . . .”

“Don’t believe everything you hear on TV.”

At the door Kevin placed a chaste kiss on my forehead.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” He disappeared into the darkness without a backwards glance.

Trying to sleep was a cruel joke.

When I pulled into the parking lot at the sheriff ’s of-fi ce the next morning, it surprised me to see Missy’s car parked next to the sheriff ’s Ford Explorer. Odd. We rotated Sundays. Since I’d spent last Sunday working for Kevin, the shift this week fell to me. A strange sense of disquiet twisted my gut, but I breezed into the building anyway.

Missy sat quietly at the desk,
my
desk, but wouldn’t meet my eyes. She mumbled, “Umm . . . Th e Sheriff ’s waiting for you in his offi

ce.”

My feet moved normally even when they seemed thick, heavy, and encased in mud. At the sheriff ’s half-open door I knocked.

He barked, “Come in.”

I made little noise as I crossed the threshold and gave him a curious look.

326

Sheriff Richard’s gaze didn’t waver. “Shut the door.”

He pointed to the chair in front of his desk. “Sit.”

I

sat.

He opened a manila folder, scanned it, closed it with a decisive snap. Without preamble, he said, “Leanne Dobrowski requested a restraining order against you yesterday afternoon. Why?”

Shit. “Did you grant it?”

“Th

at’s beside the point. Why would your next door neighbor fi le a complaint?”

“I told her I was calling Social Services.”

“Because . . .” He waited.

“Because her daughter is borderline malnourished, abused, and neglected,” I recited.

“Did you tell her that as a representative of this offi ce

you could guarantee her daughter would be placed in foster care? Th

at you’d personally see to it?”

Every pretense of calm rationality I maintained fl ed.

“Leanne said that? She’s a fucking liar. All I said was Social Services would be interested to know she’d locked Kiyah out of the house in the cold for hours yesterday.

Without food, without proper clothing. And, that’s not the fi rst time.”

Screw his intimidation tactics.
I
was not in the wrong here.

“I saw her grab Kiyah, hell, Kevin was there and he saw it too. I’ll bet if you sent someone over there right 327

now, you’d fi nd bruises on her arms. I doubt there’s a goddamned thing to eat in the house. Th

e place is pigsty and

Leanne has men traipsing in and out at all hours. You tell me if that’s a healthy environment for a child.”

“Not my call, nor is it yours.” He stared at me, borderline incredulous, and shook his head. “And, it is your word against hers. She’s also claiming you have an ‘unnatural’

attachment to her daughter.”

“Fuck that. She’d think it was unnatural since she doesn’t seem to give a shit about Kiyah one way or another.

As long as the ADC checks keep coming.”

“Watch your mouth.” He tossed the folder on his desk.

“Look. I understand where you’re coming from. Th is kind

of situation isn’t unique, but it isn’t your job. It’ll probably just make it worse for the child.”

“I don’t see how.”

“With the complaint on fi le, we both know Social Services will make a visit as soon as possible. Even if Ms. Dobrowski isn’t aware that
her
phone call, not your threats, are what’s setting the ball in motion. If the situation is as bad as you claim, they’ll handle it.”

“So, where does that leave me?”

Sheriff Tom stood and refi lled his coff ee. His tan cotton shirt tightened across his back, but he didn’t turn around immediately. “Th

at’s the reason I’ve called you in here.”

I wrapped my purse straps around my fi ngers and waited.

328

“Banner couple of weeks for you, Julie. You’ve involved yourself in a murder case, a bar fi ght, discovered a body, and been used for target practice.” He turned around and ambled toward the front of his desk, settling his backside against it. Less than two feet separated us, yet I knew we were miles apart. “Missy let it slip how your breakup with that fella came about.”

I started to protest, but it died on my lips at his harsh look.

“You should’ve pressed charges. But instead, I’m called and fi nd out some woman wants to press charges against
you
.”