Uncovered (25 page)

“Try telling my mother that.” The wry mutter most likely wasn’t meant for his ears. Her fingers fluttered beneath his. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this. No man—”

“Mad, it’s the same as your being with me after I got hurt. You help one another through the tough stuff.”

“I’m not…I don’t know how to believe in that, Ash.”

Fighting off a wave of drowsiness, he let his gaze linger on her face. Awful tension dragged at her features and dulled hazel eyes. She looked like if she didn’t rest soon, she’d fall out.

He tightened his hold on her fingers. “Know what I need?”

“What?”

“To hold you a little while.”

“Really. You need to be resting.” One corner of her mouth hitched in a half-hearted smile. Her gaze dropped to his knee. “Besides you’re not supposed to be moving.”

He patted the other side of the bed. “I’m not moving the knee, there’s plenty of room and I need to be close to you. You look like you might need that too.”

She was quiet a moment, then slid her hand from beneath his. As he watched, she came around to the other side of the bed and lowered the rail. He lifted his arm, giving her room to lie beside him. With ginger movements designed not to jostle him, she settled next to him and he wrapped his arm about her shoulders. She rested on his chest, one hand beneath her cheek.

“Hmm, feels good.” He brushed a kiss over her hair. “I’ve missed you.”

“I just saw you this morning,” she murmured.

His lids fell, a combination of medication and weariness pulling at him. “It’s been a long day.”

“You’re telling me.”

He smoothed his hand up and down her arm in a slow, soothing sweep. Warmth from her body seeped into him. Slowly, the tension drained from her, and he sensed her slide into relaxation.

“Why don’t you take a nap?” he whispered.

“I don’t want to waste this time with you.”

The lost note in her voice tore at him. She thought their time was limited, and why not? Obviously, everyone else’s love came with limitations and expectations. Had she never had anyone care for her completely, without reserve?

And wait a minute…he wasn’t really think in terms of love. Friendship, desire, caring…sure. But love? He wasn’t thinking that.

Except he was. He opened his eyes, to find hers closed, lashes casting half-moon shadows on her cheek. He watched her, letting the realization make its way through him.

He could love her. Falling the rest of the way would be so easy.

Winning her mistrustful heart in return? That would be hard as hell.

He brushed another kiss over her hair. She relaxed further against him, lips parting, even breaths puffing warmth against his skin through the thin hospital gown. He tightened his arm, bringing her closer to him. She murmured once and stilled.

He closed his eyes, sleep pulling at him. For now, he was content to live in this moment.

Tick flipped to the next page of his printouts. In the kitchen behind him, Caitlin hummed a soft song, some Irish ditty she’d picked up long ago from her grandmother. Resting against his stomach, Lee gurgled around his pacifier and jiggled a foot, just brushing the papers Tick held. The warm, slight weight of his son tempered the frustration of not finding a single, freakin’ lead anywhere.

Half the people on the rental list didn’t even live in the state anymore, hadn’t come from Chandler County to start with. If there was a link between Allison and this house, he didn’t see it.

No. He narrowed his eyes at the list of background information on tenant number four. There was a link, he simply hadn’t found it yet.

With a muffled coo, Lee kicked harder, rustling the papers. Tick folded his hand over the baby’s middle. “What are you doing, boy?”

“Aggravating you, obviously.” Caitlin closed the dishwasher and set it running. “Want me to take him?”

“He’s fine.” He moved the page out of reach of the wriggling little foot. Caitlin perched on the chair arm, rubbing her fingers down his nape. He gave an appreciative groan at the relaxing rhythm. With a quiet laugh, she nudged him forward to a straighter position offering her greater access to his shoulders. He shifted Lee on his lap and let his lids slide shut for a moment.

“Lord, you have the best hands.” He rotated his head, working the muscles beneath her massaging fingers. “I think I’ll keep you.”

“Did you know no autopsy was performed on Allison’s first husband?”

He made a negative sound in his throat.

“Don’t you think that’s odd? A healthy twenty-one-year-old dies of a sudden heart attack and there’s no autopsy?”

“Was it a holiday weekend?”

“Yes.” Her lips rested against his nape, sending shivers over him. “Labor Day.”

“Figures.” He opened his eyes. The background checks stared back with inexorable frustration. What if they couldn’t make this case? The thought of Kelly Coker dying alone, being left to rot beneath that house, and never receiving justice for what had been done to her didn’t sit well.

His reason insisted that there might be other explanations, that Allison might not be involved at all.

His instinct said otherwise.

The woman had keyed his truck over a minor slight. And what she’d done to Madeline, because she blamed her? Hell, if she possessed a molecule of human decency, he sure didn’t see it.

“Nobody questioned the lack of an autopsy?” he asked, scanning the next renter’s background information. Young marine, honorably discharged, who’d lived in the house for all of three months. He’d moved out before they thought Kelly returned to Georgia.

“Not that I could tell. Everything looked like it was an open-shut case. It was a small hospital, an even smaller town with a two-man police department.”

“What town?”

“Cressley.”

“Oh hell.” He grimaced. “They’ve had the same chief for almost thirty years. He can’t find his ass with both hands.”

“I’d bet you it was antifreeze.” Caitlin murmured the words against his hair. Lee’s jiggling slowed, his little body relaxing under Tick’s hand. “That would present as a heart attack and unless they ran the right tox screen, which they didn’t…”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure you could get the Cressley PD to open an investigation into a death that was declared due to natural causes almost twenty years ago.”

“Hmm.” She rubbed her cheek on his hair. “I’m sure the insurance company that paid out on his policy would be interested.”

“You have an evil mind, Agent Falconetti.”

“Oh, and you love it, Investigator Calvert.” She moved, easing up to bend over them. “He’s asleep.”

He lifted his palm so she could slide her hands under the baby and pick him up. She cradled their sleeping son under her chin, whispering her lips across his dark hair as she carried him upstairs to bed. Thankfulness slammed into Tick once more. He had everything, despite how close he’d come to losing it all, more than once, it seemed.

Hell, if he’d ended up married to Allison, he might be dead now. The certainty that she’d had something to do with Kelly’s death coursed through his thoughts again.

The memory of Madeline’s lost, defeated withdrawal rose, swirling with the questions and frustrations. She deserved justice as much as Kelly. He owed her that, for the part he’d played in stunting her life. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, eyes closed on a prayer. He needed guidance. Needed a way to forgive himself for what he couldn’t change.

Soft footsteps sounded on the stairs. On a long inhale, he opened his eyes and reached for his papers. There was an answer here. He just had to find it.

Barefoot, Caitlin padded across the room to pick up Lee’s floor-time toys and drop them into their basket. “Finding anything?”

“No.” He flipped to the next background check. “Just a bunch of really normal people.”

“There’s no such thing.” A hint of laughter colored her voice.

“Well, these people are as close as it gets.” He turned past the brief traffic record of the kindergarten teacher who’d lived in the house for two months after the marine moved out.

The phone rang, and he jumped. Caitlin reached for the cordless, lying on the coffee table.

“No.” He leaned forward to snag the phone, the memory of Madeline’s calls rising in his mind. He’d pissed Allison off as well, and at this point, he wouldn’t put anything past her. “Let me answer it.”

He punched the phone on and lifted it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Calvert, how the hell are you?” Agent Harrell Beecham’s familiar voice filled his ear, and he relaxed.

“Hey, Beech.” He tossed his feet up on the ottoman. Caitlin caught his eye and smiled. Beecham had been at Quantico with them, and over the years, both of them had worked FBI cases with him, Tick more so because he and Beecham had both been with the Bureau’s Organized Crime Division. “What’s up?”

“That’s what I’m calling to ask you.” On Beecham’s end of the connection, paper rustled. “Want to tell me why you’re running a background check on Nick Hall?”

“Nick Hall?” Tick flipped rapidly through the papers before him. If he’d triggered the OCD by checking up on the guy, he didn’t qualify as normal.

“Yeah, Nick Hall.”

“Am I stepping on the Bureau’s toes?” Here it was—Nicholas Randall Hall. He’d been living in the house on Miller Court between August and November…and Kelly had left Florida, they believed, in September. Hot damn, this was it, he could feel it.

“Not stepping on our toes, per se. Let’s just say we’d like to know what your interest is.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you know about Mr. Hall?” Tick skimmed the information he had. Couple of speeding tickets, arrest for drunk and disorderly, another for writing a bad check. What did the FBI want with this guy?

“Calvert.”

Tick crossed one ankle over the other. “He might be connected to an old murder down here. What have you got?”

“Now, not much. The boy’s gone and found religion, turned his life around.” Cynicism lurked in Beecham’s normally dry tone. “He’s been clean for at least six months.”

“Wow. Six whole months.”

“Yeah. Imagine that.”

“So why’s the OCD interested in him?”

“Well, his brother
hasn’t
found religion yet. He’s still following the tenets of the Southern Brotherhood, even though Nicky left months ago. We’re keeping tabs on Nicky, hoping it will give us some insight into Jake’s activities.”

The Southern Brotherhood. Holy hell. Sheer excitement sizzled through him. “Beech, you just made my damn
year
.”

“Glad to help. Listen, anything you find on Nick, I want to know first, okay, man? Interdepartmental sharing and all that bullshit.”

“Bullshit is right.” A grin quirked at his mouth. If he could make this link, if it played out like he thought it would, Allison was on her way down. Hell, Madeline deserved to be the one slapping the cuffs on her. He’d make sure she got that chance. “Only reason you’re calling me is because you think I might have something. Gotta go, Beech.”

“Calvert, wait—”

He killed the connection and dropped the phone, flipping for the next page. There had to be a current address here. Had to be.

Caitlin laughed. “Did you just hang up on him?”

“Um, yeah.” Shit, where was page six?

“Are you going to share what has you so wound up?”

“This guy…the one who lived in the house during the time we think Kelly came back from Florida.” Damn it, he had page five, page seven…what had he done with page
six
? Ah, hell. Either it hadn’t printed or he’d missed it somehow, and it was still on his desk. How bad would Caitlin bitch him out if he went back to the office?

“Yes?” Indulgent affection colored the syllable. Probably not too much bitching.

“He was in the Southern Brotherhood.” He grabbed his shoes by the chair and tugged them on.

“Really.” Intrigue flared in Caitlin’s eyes. She perched on the edge of the coffee table. “Just like Allison’s second husband.”

“Right.” He shuffled the papers he had back into their file.

Caitlin frowned. “Where are you going?”

“Left the paper I need at the office.” On his feet, he leaned over and kissed her. “I want to go by the hospital, show this to Madeline.”

“How do you know she’s there?”

“Because.” He couldn’t resist leaning in for one more kiss. “You said you thought that’s where she headed. You’re hardly ever wrong about people, and I know Ash—once he got her there, he’d do everything in his power to keep her.”

Quiet voices echoed in the still hallway beyond the door. Light from the security lamps in the parking lot cast a bluish glow in the room. She raised her arm, peering at her watch. Almost nine. Hell, the nurses had to have been in here at least five times in the last few hours. Had she slept through all that? Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. What would they think of her, sleeping in Ash’s hospital bed?

“I made them leave you alone,” he murmured, eyes closed. “You needed the rest.”

She hadn’t spoken aloud, so how did he…? She propped up on her elbow, awakening nerves sending tingles up and down her skin. “How did you—”

“I’ve figured out how you think.” Humor lurked beneath the pain and drugs slurring his voice. “Then you were worrying about what they would think, which really doesn’t matter a damn. Next up is the whole ‘I scare the hell out of you’ thing again.”

“You do,” she said, her voice shaky. Actually, not so much him—but how he made her feel, like being drawn to the edge of a canyon, wanting to capture its wonders, yet being afraid of falling over the precipice at the same time.

He opened his eyes, the pale green depths dark with quiet emotion. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me, ever. I wouldn’t hurt you, Mad.”

For a long moment, she stared into those eyes then slowly lowered her head to close the gap between them. She kissed him, his mouth warm and supple beneath hers. Making a low sound in his throat, he speared his left hand into her hair, deepening a kiss that was at once both hungry and tender.

He moved his hand, cradling her face, easing back to whisper his lips over her eyelids, one cheekbone, the corner of her mouth. Soft feathery kisses that made her chest hurt. Tears stung her eyes.

“Everything is so damn good with you,” she murmured.

“If you say you don’t deserve it”—he gripped her chin in a gentle hand and made her meet his gaze—“hell, if you even think it, I swear to God I’ll spank you.”

A tremulous smile shaped her mouth. “Is that a promise?”

His eyes flared, and a deep chuckle rumbled between them, at least until he cut it short, a hand over his chest. “Shit, babe, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

She touched her fingers to his jaw. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He turned his head to brush a kiss over her palm. The sense of rightness settled over her again, and she pressed her eyes closed. Walking away from him would be incredibly hard, but she had to go. She couldn’t stay here, not here.

Could she?

His arm tightened about her, pulling her against him for a moment. He rested his mouth against her brow, and a shuddery breath moved through his strong frame.

“Mad,” he whispered, warm breath shivering over her skin, “I love you.”

She froze, her ability to breathe gone, just like that. He had not just said those words. She jerked back, her eyes snapping open.

He waited, watching her with a resigned expression. The hopelessness in his gaze made her want to cry. She would have, if the fear hadn’t iced over everything within her.

“Ash, don’t say that. Don’t go there. Not with me. Please.”

His mouth drew into a tight line, and he looked away. His silence only made the ice inside her that much worse.

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I’m not…I can’t…I told you from the beginning, I’m not in the—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” A subdued anger trembled in his voice, although she felt the emotion was directed as much at himself as at her. “Just don’t. I shouldn’t have said anything. It was…I just shouldn’t have.”

He rubbed a hand down his face, and everything inside her seemed to fold in on itself. The sweetness and warmth and rightness evaporated, dissipating like dew under the onslaught of a summer sun. She shivered. The loss of those pure emotions left her empty and wanting them back.

But not enough to pretend to be something she wasn’t. Easing away from him, she shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. She darted a quick look at the door and rubbed her hands down her arms. Old instincts tried to urge her toward the door, telling her to run.

Something new and quiet bade her stay, even with the tension thick and heavy in the room. She feathered a hand through her hair. “I don’t know what to say.”

He watched her, the bleakness gone from his eyes, replaced with a gleam of hope. “You don’t have to say anything. The fact you’re not already out the door is enough for now.”

“You’re so easy to please.” She tried to laugh at her own dismal joke and failed.

“Not really.” He didn’t smile. “But the first thing I learned in military school was that each victory in a small battle is one step toward winning the whole damn war.”

“Battle? Are you trying to conquer me?”

He didn’t respond to her tiny attempt at wry humor. “Not you. That fear you wear like a Kevlar vest. I want you to live, Madeline, whether it’s with me or not. You—”

“Deserve that?” A shaky smile hitched at the corner of her mouth.

“Yes. You do.” Brows lowered, he watched her. “Don’t let what I said…the way I feel about you…don’t let that come between us, Madeline. I’m not rushing you, not expecting anything in return right how. I just want you.”

Her eyes burned, a wash of tears casting the room in a shimmering haze. No one had ever wanted just her. Her body, yes. Her? No one.

He jerked his chin in a come-hither gesture. “Get over here.”

Her breath caught. She hadn’t lost him because of her extreme reaction to his declaration, because she couldn’t return it yet. She turned into his embrace, resting her head carefully against his chest, the steady beat of his pulse under her ear spreading peace and warmth through her.

“I shouldn’t have said it yet. It’s way too soon for you to hear that from me,” he murmured, sifting his fingers through her hair. “But I’m glad I did.”

So was she. Even as much as they frightened her, she could cherish the words, cherish the man who’d given them to her so freely. She smoothed her fingers over his chest, the thin hospital gown slightly rough under her touch.

“So am I,” she whispered.

Footsteps, with a familiar cadence, sounded in the hallway. She frowned, and Ash’s fingers stilled in her hair.

“That’s Tick,” he said, just moments before a rap came at the door and it swung inward. Madeline jerked to sit on the mattress edge and swiped at her eyes, her back to him.

“Hey. Sorry to interrupt.” A hint of sheepishness colored Tick’s voice but didn’t quite disguise the notes of excitement and adrenaline. Certainty speared through her. He had a lead. She rubbed at her damp eyes again and turned sideways to face him. Sure enough, he slapped a rolled up paper against his palm, the thrill of the chase gleaming in his dark gaze. “Madeline, can I talk to you a minute?”

With a nod, she laid her palm on Ash’s stomach. His pulse beat there too, strong and sure, beneath her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

Uncaring of Tick’s presence, she leaned down to brush her mouth over Ash’s and caught the flare of what that meant to him in his eyes before she slid from the bed. She pointed toward the hallway. “Let’s go to the waiting area.”

Outside, she slanted a curious look at Tick. God, he practically vibrated with energy. “What’s going on?”

He grinned. “I think I can tie Allison to the house.”

A glimmer of his excitement flared in her. “Really?”

“Yeah. How do you feel about riding over to Moultrie?”

“Now?” She took a quick look at her watch.

“Well, tomorrow morning.” A guilty grin curved his mouth but did little to diminish the glow in his dark eyes. “I think if I tried to take off tonight, Cait would have a fit. I told her I’d only be gone a half hour or so.”

“So why are we going to Moultrie?”

She listened as he explained how their background checks on the former tenants of the Miller Court house had triggered a call from an old buddy with the FBI. “Anyway, this guy was a member of the Southern Brotherhood motorcycle club. Coincidentally enough, so was Allison’s second husband.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences, Calvert.”

“Yeah.” He grinned again. “Me, neither. Listen, as soon as that warrant clears for Allison’s computer, Cookie’ll be all over it.”

“Sure.” She tousled hair that had to be a mess already. “Thanks.”

He tilted his head toward the hallway. “I’m going to take off. Good night.”

“Good night,” she echoed. Once he was gone, she slipped back into Ash’s room. He slept, lingering pain still dragging at his features. She curled into the stiff armchair, her gaze on his face. Arms tucked around her updrawn knees, she rested her head against the chair back. Going to her mother’s for the night was out of the question, and she couldn’t go to Ash’s either. No sense in checking into a hotel.

Besides, he was here, and that made this the only place she really wanted to be.