Officer on Duty (Lock and Key Book 4) (3 page)

Meredith waved a hand. “I’m not a recipe hoarder. Life is too short to keep good things to yourself. Speaking of which…”

She turned to her son, raising her shopping bag. “I was at the outlet mall today and I saw the cutest little sundress. I had to buy it for Paige – couldn’t resist.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” He eyed the bag. “She’s in the kitchen.”

She bustled inside, but not before her gaze darted between Jeremy and Lucia, lingering on her son.

“Your mom seems so sweet,” Lucia said when Meredith had disappeared into the kitchen.

“She’s always been one to put others first, but make no mistake – she’s got a stubborn streak running a mile long through all that niceness.”

It was hard to believe. Meredith seemed like a real sweetheart, baking for newcomers and splurging on sundresses for her granddaughter. Being welcomed to the neighborhood with fresh baked goods had been like a scene straight out of a fifties sitcom.

Before she could say so, Meredith appeared in the doorway beside her son. “Jeremy, do you want me to put on a pot of coffee for everyone?”

“Everyone?”

“I have a spare tray of lemon bars over at my place. I can zip over and get them while the coffee’s brewing.”

“You didn’t make them for someone specific?”

“Not at all. They’re your favorite, and I had extra ingredients on hand.” She shrugged. “Couldn’t bring myself to let the cream spoil.”

He nodded after a split second of silence. “All right, then. You know I can’t say no to your baking.”

Lucia thought she detected a wry note in his voice, but it was hard to gauge with someone she’d just met.

“Well,” he said after his mother retreated, “you might as well come in now. She won’t let you get away until you’ve eaten at least two servings of dessert.”

Her mouth watered.

Of course, the way Jeremy’s blue eyes flashed in the evening light might’ve had just as much to do with that as the thought of food, but either way…

“You don’t have to twist my arm.” She stepped inside, her heart skipping a beat as she passed within inches of him and inhaled his scent: soap and a spicy aftershave, with just a hint of sweat.

It sparked a craving that had absolutely nothing to do with lemons, cream or crumbled graham crust.

Strictly speaking, Brianna Haynes’ murder wasn’t Jeremy’s business.

Practically speaking, in a town the size of Cypress, everyone
made
it their business. And as a sheriff’s deputy, he was in the thick of the carefully extracted facts and colorful speculation that swirled around the homicide.

She’d recently broken up with a boyfriend, and the local media had waved that fact around like a matador’s cape, tempting the public’s imagination.

Hell, even Jeremy would’ve bet on the boyfriend being involved, if he’d been a betting man. But the kid, a recent college grad, had an airtight alibi: he’d been interviewing for a job in Savannah, Georgia, the morning Brianna had died.

Thoughts of Brianna kept slipping into Jeremy’s consciousness as he worked his Monday shift with Richardson. The new officer was as full of ideas about the case as anyone else, and brought it up during the lulls between calls.

“I still say it was personal,” Richardson said when they stopped at a local café for lunch.

The restaurant was a favorite among the sheriff’s deputies and town police alike. Two Cypress PD officers sat just yards away, digging into the lunch special.

“Probably.” Jeremy nodded and ate his brisket sandwich on autopilot, his mind flashing unbidden to the mental image of Brianna that’d settled into his consciousness, just like it had everyone else’s.

The media had splashed her photo across every local newspaper, and they flashed it on the news like their lives depended on it.

He understood: she’d been a pretty young woman, and regardless of what the county had gone through last year, homicides were still rare in their little corner of the coastline. Her death was the sort of tragedy the news media could string out over the span of months, throwing scraps of speculation to the public like fishermen chumming for sharks.

But understanding wasn’t the same as acceptance. Brianna’s death was a thorn in his side – one that reminded him of the women he cared about. He wanted to know why Brianna had been killed as much as anyone else.

He wanted to know so that he could tell himself whoever had done it wasn’t out there waiting to hurt someone else.

* * * * *

Lucia’s short drive from work to her new place on Magnolia Street put her home twenty minutes earlier than she was used to. On Tuesday, she decided to use the extra time to relax before starting dinner.

Sinking down onto the couch, she grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV. Her damp hair was caught between her cheek and the cushion, and still smelled faintly of chlorine despite the fact that she’d washed it with clarifying shampoo before leaving work.

She loved her job, but it had a dark side: it put her hair through hell. Every year, she spent a small fortune on moisturizing and restorative treatments to protect her natural waves. A definite downside, but not enough to keep her from the work she loved.

She still didn’t have cable, and as she decided to settle for the local news, she knew exactly what the report would be about.

Brianna Haynes. That was the name of the poor girl who’d been murdered along the jogging trail in Walters Park. Lucia was already up to date on the basic facts of the case. It was the talk of the town, and the talk of the Coastal Aquatic Center by extension.

Lucia was a small-town girl through and through, having left the coast for the city during her college years, and returned afterward. Every time the tragedy was brought up, she experienced a pang of sadness. Brianna had only been twenty, a Cypress native who’d left her parents and a little brother grief-stricken. Way too young to have her life torn from her that way.

Between rehashing the sparse facts of the case, the news anchor mentioned a candlelight vigil. Apparently, one was going to be held in Walters Park.

She bit down on her inner lip, imagining Brianna’s friends, family and neighbors gathered on the grass where she’d been killed, their faces lit by candlelight.

The thought was depressing. Flipping off the news, she silently promised herself she wouldn’t be part of the local media’s captive audience. Sure, she wanted to know who’d killed a local girl and why, but she didn’t want to wallow in the minutia of the crime.

Whenever the police figured out what’d happened, she was bound to hear about it.

Abandoning the couch, she stepped into the kitchen and pulled a couple bags from the freezer: frozen mixed vegetables and frozen pre-peeled shrimp.

It was practically a crime to eat frozen supermarket shrimp when she lived on the coast, but no one had to know. Pulling out a skillet, she was fully prepared to whip up an artless stir-fry in just fifteen minutes.

Living alone had a way of curbing her enthusiasm for cooking. Every once in a while she’d pull out all the stops and make a real meal, but mostly, she fried and sautéed her way through culinary mediocrity.

No doubt she’d be motivated to aim higher if she ever had a family, but for now, it was just her and her skillet living the single life.

The thought had her mind drifting back to the evening before, when Jeremy Connor had invited her into his home for coffee and dessert. Or maybe it had been Meredith who’d done the inviting – she still wasn’t completely sure. Either way…

Her time in his kitchen had been the most indulgent half hour she’d experienced in a long time.

Not that it’d been anything but wholesome. Paige and Meredith had been there, providing a buffer against the wicked thoughts Jeremy inspired. They’d talked about Lucia’s move from Wilmington, and the local beaches.

Totally innocent, unlike the wave of heat that hit Lucia every time she thought of her new neighbor’s hard, corded physique and blue eyes.

Broccoli, bell peppers and summer squash sizzled in the skillet, as if emphasizing Jeremy’s hotness.

There was no doubt about it: her single spell was affecting her cognitive processes. Why else was she suddenly capable of lusting after a man as she sat sandwiched between his daughter and mother?

Sure, he was hot. Ridiculously so. But admiring him the night before, in the presence of his family, had left her feeling downright lascivious.

It would’ve been different if they’d been alone. Now
there
was a thought.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Jeremy’s situation was. Was he recently divorced? Single and looking?

It was probably none of her business, but she was only human. Any woman would wonder how long a man like him could go unattached.

* * * * *

It was an urban myth that homicides not solved within the first forty-eight hours were destined to languish in the realm of cold cases. When it came to a man who’d been single for a dozen years, however…

Christ. After so long, people should be able to accept that he was a bachelor.

Jeremy told that to his mother for the thousandth time and received a sigh in return.

“All I said was that Lucia is the prettiest face on Magnolia Street. Besides Paige, of course.”

Meredith leaned against her porch railing while Jeremy stood on her front lawn, gripping the handle of an old push mower.

A bead of sweat trickled into his eye, stinging. “You were hinting. Don’t pretend you weren’t. Not after the way you dragged the poor woman through my front door the other day.”

“She’s a woman living alone – I want her to feel welcome in the neighborhood.” She arched a brow. “You of all people should know that a little hospitality isn’t a crime. And
poor woman
? Please. She loved my lemon bars, and everyone enjoys good company.”

“I know everyone loves your baking. But if you don’t stop trying to lure her into my house, you’re going to drive her out of the neighborhood.”

Maybe that’d finally show his mother. This wasn’t the first time she’d encouraged Jeremy to date, or tried to manufacture a relationship between him and an eligible woman.

“You’re being dramatic, honey.”

He bit back a sigh and started the mower.

The fading sunlight beat down on the back of his neck, and the warmth was an uncomfortable reminder of the heat a beautiful woman could still make him feel, bachelor or not.

Lucia moving in across the street had been enough to remind him of the fact that he wasn’t dead. Hell, he was only thirty-three.

It sounded young enough when he said it out loud, but felt like a million years. Being abandoned to single fatherhood had plunged him into some sort of time warp. That combined with police work had been enough to inject his soul with a certain level of practical cynicism.

Was it healthy? Maybe not.

But it was reality. Paige’s mother had broken a heart too young and soft to do anything but crumble in her wake. But like they said, time healed all wounds.

He didn’t miss her. Turned out he didn’t even need her. He regretted what she’d done for Paige’s sake, though.

Every little girl deserved a mama. Paige had her grandmother, and he was grateful, but his heart was still soft enough to ache for his daughter anyway.

And he wasn’t about to put her in the line of fire again. Bringing another woman into their lives – a stranger – wasn’t something he wanted to put her through. Not after the way she’d already suffered because of his poor decision making.

Being alone sucked sometimes. That much was true. But he’d sworn to protect and serve those who needed it, and if he couldn’t shield his own daughter from more harm, who could he protect?

* * * * *

Jeremy didn’t like Paige being home alone, but sometimes his shifts coincided with his mother’s volunteer hours at the hospital. On those afternoons, she spent a couple hours by herself at the house.

He’d tried like hell to convince her to volunteer at the hospital with her grandmother, but she’d accused him of babying her, and they’d had a rare argument. In the end, he’d conceded – reluctantly – that she was old enough to be home alone, for short periods of time.

Still, he was always glad to make it home on those days.

“Paige?” He stepped through the front door, closing and locking it behind himself.

The kitchen lights were on and the scent of something tomato-y hung in the air. A casserole dish was open on the counter beside the microwave, a serving spoon sticking out.

Paige’s latest library book sat alone on the kitchen table.

He called for her again as he walked down the hall, toward her bedroom.

The light was on, and the door cracked.

He knocked, then pushed it open.

There was no sign of her, just walls glowing with the violet paint that matched the patterned bedspread she’d fixed with hospital corners.

Adrenaline hit him like a shot to the heart. His hand went to his service weapon, fingertips touching steel as a metallic taste crept into his mouth.

He turned, his pulse thumping in his ears, drumming up an instant headache.

Where was she? Why the hell had he
ever
agreed to let her stay home alone?

Protective instinct swirled with a thousand terrible thoughts, fueled by the worst things he’d seen during his twelve years with the sheriff’s department.