If You See Her (5 page)

They both had the same clear, pale skin, similar bone structure. Even the hair color was similar and it was an unusual shade. In the picture, the woman’s hair appeared to be longer, pulled back and up. It had been much shorter when they had found her, but that didn’t mean much.

He tugged on his lip as he scanned a report until he found the rest of the information he needed.

Height was almost dead-on. Weight, just a few pounds’ difference.

Taking the second picture, he turned it around and placed it next to the picture he’d recently received of Jolene Hollister’s. Then he looked at his men.

“What do you see?”

A little piece of gold shouldn’t weigh that much.

Sighing, Ezra King sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the gold cross. He’d found it half-buried in the mud a couple of weeks ago, a dozen yards or so away
from his house. His house had been going up in flames at the time.

“You going to tell me what’s got you all broody and down?” A soft, strong hand stroked up his back and he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Lena’s naked torso right before she pressed up against him, nuzzling his cheek.

Her arms came around him and he smiled. “Hey, I wake up in bed next to a beautiful woman. What do I have to be down about?”

“Ezra.” She pressed her cheek against his and just waited.

It was almost eerie, how well she knew him. Already.

They’d only been together a few weeks. A couple months ago, he hadn’t even known her. A little over a year ago, he’d still been working with the state police in Lexington.

For the past few days, ever since the night his house had burned to a charred husk, he’d been living with her and honestly, he had a hard time imagining a life without Lena Riddle.

He was already thinking crazy shit like engagement rings. Weddings. Waking up next to her every day for the rest of his life. He loved her—was shit-faced, stupid in love with her and couldn’t imagine his life without her.

He had fallen for her so hard. So fast. And with each day that passed, he fell for her just a little more.

And because he knew she’d want to know, because he knew he’d want her to share whatever burdens she had, he knew he couldn’t hide this. It just weighed too heavy on his heart.

Sighing, he reached up and laid a hand on her arm, squeezed gently. “Brody Jennings.”

“What about him?” She pressed her lips to his cheek. “He’s just a sad, messed-up kid, Slick.”

Ezra grimaced. A sad, messed-up kid. Yeah, that described Brody Jennings, all right. Except the sad, messed-up kid’s behavior was kind of escalating. All over the place. Looking down at the gold cross, he studied it. There was no doubt in his mind it was the same one.

“I saw him in town, the day Law got back to town,” he said softly. “When you and Hope were walking around the square. Remy was there with him—wanted to talk to me. Said he’d make sure Brody came out when I was ready, help me repair some of the damage the kid had done out at my place.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face and muttered, “Shit. The damage. A few trashed flower beds are the least of the problems, now, huh? Unless the kid’s got a contractor’s license, he’s not going to be much use out there.”

The house he’d inherited from his grandmother was trashed, thanks to the fire, and he hadn’t been able to salvage much of anything. What hadn’t been destroyed by the flames had been destroyed by smoke or water.

Lena tightened her arms. “Ezra, what’s your point here? I’m not following.”

“He had a necklace on. A gold cross.” Rubbing his finger across the delicately etched surface, he stared off into the distance.

“It was his mother’s.” Lena rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “I remember Remy mentioning it. It’s like the one thing he still … how did he put it … I dunno, but when Remy sees him wearing it, it’s like he still has hope. Still thinks the kid isn’t too far gone.”

Early morning light shone through the window, danced off the small bit of gold. So small.

How in the hell could it weigh so much? Be such a burden?

“The kid might be gone farther than he thinks, beautiful,” Ezra said, his voice gruff. “I found that cross. It was out by my house the night it caught on fire.”

Lena trailed her hand down his arm.

When her fingers touched the cross, a soft, sad sigh escaped her. She rested her head on his shoulder. But she didn’t say anything.

His dad had already left.

Brody waited, just to be certain, before he slipped out. He had to air up his tires before he could go anywhere—thanks to Uncle Remy, Dad had taken his four-wheeler away and Brody wasn’t about to walk.

Too far away.

Setting off across the fields, he focused on anything and everything but what he’d done.

Or at least he tried.

It was really, really hard to think about anything else.

He needed to tell somebody … his dad was out of the question. Maybe Uncle Remy. Maybe the sheriff … shit, screw that. But … hell. Who could he tell? He hadn’t
meant
to do it.

Wasn’t like anybody had gotten hurt.

King had sure as hell landed on his feet—shacking up with Lena Riddle, of all people. The woman had legs that went for miles. Brody didn’t know why in the hell his uncle had broken things off with her. If
he
had a girl like that …?

Easier to think about her, wonder about what it might be like to make it with her than to think about the fire.

The flames.

So hot, so fucking hot.

If he’d stopped, for five damn seconds, to think … and shit, how was he supposed to know the place would burn like that?

The place had been old.

That’s what the word around town was. Old places like that? They burned fast.

But how in the hell was Brody to know that?

Nobody had gotten hurt. Nobody had even been there.

And as long as he hadn’t lost his mom’s necklace there, nobody had to know it was him, either.

He just had to find that necklace.

Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them away. Wasn’t going to cry over it. It would turn up. Always did. The chain was old. He kept meaning to get a new one, but they weren’t cheap and he hated asking his dad for anything.

It was the necklace, though, that had him tearing up. Even though he wouldn’t cry about it, it was the necklace.

It couldn’t be anything else—it wasn’t like he needed to cry about that bastard King’s place, or the fire, or the trouble he could be in.

Nobody knew.

And he hadn’t meant for it to happen …

Swallowing the tears that clogged his throat, he wished he could go and talk to Uncle Remy.

Or even his dad, although Dad barely even realized he was alive anymore.

Most of all, Brody wished he could talk to his mom. Wished she was there. Wished she was there to wrap her arms around him, tell him everything would be okay.

Even though he knew nothing would ever be okay again.

Not for him.

Nothing had been right for him since she died, and he didn’t see that changing any time soon.

“R
UN THAT BY ME AGAIN
, M
R
. J
ENNINGS
?”

“I’m just looking for more information on your ex-wife’s past,” Remy said, keeping his voice level.

Although honestly, he didn’t know how much more information he needed, or even what he was looking for—or why. Even if Hope
had
been involved, he wouldn’t have to go this far. He just couldn’t help himself.

Officially
, Hope Carson was no longer his concern.

He just, hell, he couldn’t leave it alone. He didn’t even know why, but he couldn’t leave it alone. Couldn’t leave
her
alone.

“Just how much more do you want me to share?” Carson said, sadly, softly. “I’ve already shared far more than I feel comfortable with. What else do you want from me?”

Remy sighed and spun around in his chair, staring out the window. “I just need to know everything I can. The more I know, the more I can help her.”

“Oh, bullshit.” Carson laughed, but even over the phone, there was no mistaking the complete lack of humor in the sound. “Don’t hand me that. It’s not
help
you want from me. You just want me to give you the
nails to close her coffin. I won’t do that. Not to my wife.”

The phone went dead.

Remy softly murmured, “Ex-wife.”

Then, as a knock sounded on his office door, he hung up.

“Come in,” he called out.

The last person he expected to see was Brody.

The subdued kid came into his office looking like somebody had kicked a puppy—and he was the puppy.

Remy eyed his nephew, wondering where that brash, borderline mean attitude had gone. “You okay, Brody?”

“Yeah.” He gave a jerky shrug and roamed the office, absently jiggling the change in his pocket, the same way Remy did when he was nervous or distracted.

Remy no longer carried change in his pockets for that very reason. Little things like that tripped up a man in court. Showing any nerves, tension—not wise.

Brody stopped in front of the desk, scuffing his feet on the carpet. “You haven’t seen Mom’s necklace, have you? I can’t find it. That stupid chain went and broke.”

Ah …
Suddenly understanding the woebegone look in the kid’s eyes, Remy leaned back in his chair. “No. I can’t say I have, at least not that I can recall. How long has it been since you saw it?”

“A few days.” Despondent, Brody flung his long, skinny body down in one of the leather chairs and stared off into nothingness.

“Remember when you saw it last?”

Brody huffed out a breath. “Shit. How the hell do I know? After I showered one morning, I guess. Then it wasn’t there.” His gaze met Remy’s, then bounced away, never resting any place for longer than a few seconds.

“You talked to your dad?”

“No.”

And just like that, Brody shut down. Crossing his
arms over his skinny chest, he shot up out of the chair. “I guess I better get. You’ve got lawyer shit to do around here.”

“Brody …”

The kid paused at the door.

Remy sighed. “Hell. I’ll keep an eye out, ask around.” It wouldn’t do any good, but he felt like there was something he should do. Say. “Maybe it will turn up.”

Brody nodded and then pushed through the door, his head bent, narrow shoulders slumped.

Poor kid.

Remy wished he could do more for the boy, say more. But his nephew shut everybody out these days, and the kind of heart-to-heart they needed to have would have to wait until Remy had a few more minutes available. He had to get to Nielson’s office.

Now that they no longer had Hope Carson as a suspect, he needed an update.

Maybe later, he’d go by Reilly’s, see how she was doing …

But even as that thought tried to work its way into his mind, he shut it down. Had to shut it down, because he could
not
be thinking about her like that.

Whether she was responsible for what had happened to Reilly or not, the woman was unbalanced.

That right there was a complication he did not want or need in his life.

“The victim’s next of kin claimed the body today,” Dwight said.

“Finally.” Remy scowled, counting the days in his mind. A little over two weeks had passed since the woman’s lifeless body had been found on Reilly’s property. Far too long. “What took her so long?”

“Delays,” Nielson grimaced. “And give her a break, kid. She was out of the country and it took forever for
me to get her name from the fiancé. I get the feeling he didn’t know the cousin very well. I was going through all the red tape on my end, but he ended up getting in contact with her before I did and she called me just a few days ago. Took her a few days to make it back to the country.”

“She’s the only family?”

“Yeah.” Nielson sighed. “There’s the boyfriend, but … well, he seems like a nice enough guy, but he’s not handling this too well.”

“How well would you handle it if your fiancé disappeared, then was murdered only weeks before your wedding?” Remy asked absently.

Nielson shrugged. “Lousy.”

“Anything new other than locating the next of kin?”

“Not a damn thing,” Nielson said, shaking his head. He looked utterly disgusted.

“So basically, we’re back where we started,” Remy muttered, skimming the report.

Then he tossed it onto the sheriff’s desk and studied Nielson’s face. It was a lean, intelligent face, one that might look more suited to a scholar, perhaps a minister. Quite a few had underestimated the sheriff, and Remy had more than once stood aside and watched as more than one learned the error of their ways.

He was a sharp man, and a fair one.

And right now, he was probably about as frustrated and pissed off as Remy was feeling.

“We have no idea who killed Prather, no idea who attacked Reilly—basically, we know jackshit. That’s where we stand,” Remy said.

“That’s exactly where we stand.” Dwight shrugged and said, “I can’t say I’m terribly disappointed we had to let go of Ms. Carson. I never did like the girl for this attack on Lawson, and it still left too many questions unanswered. She couldn’t have done Prather, and my
mind just wasn’t taking in the idea of separate perps—two different people, one who beat the shit out of Reilly, and one who killed my deputy, and in the same house?”

“Hell, I didn’t like the idea, either.” Remy brooded, staring out the window at the stingy square of scenery Dwight commanded. He could see a small slice of the square, carefully tended with flowers, the sidewalk. This time of day, it was crowded with people going to lunch or just finishing. Ash was a small town, but a busy one.

The past few weeks had cast one hell of a pall on the quiet little town, though.

A dead woman, her body found on Reilly’s property.

Then a cop gets killed by person or persons unknown … in Reilly’s
home
.

And Reilly gets assaulted.

Reilly.

It all circled back to him. This bloody mess going on all circled back to Reilly. If and when Remy ever had anybody to prosecute, they needed to figure out how Reilly was connected to this.