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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

G arrett took a big bite of his cheesesteak slider, hoping the guys would get distracted while he chewed and swallowed.

But they were watching him, waiting for him to respond to Braden’s question about Aspen. Garrett and his friends got together every Monday night at Braden and Carly’s place to watch whatever sporting event was on. It had started with Monday Night Football the year before, but when the regular season ended, they’d kept meeting. Tonight, they were watching a hockey game, not that Garrett was paying much attention.

After he sipped his soda, he took his time setting it down and wiping his mouth before saying, for at least the third time, “She’s just a client.”

“Awfully pretty client.” Braden was seated in one of the club chairs, his baby girl tucked against his chest.

Andrew, who’d been the focus of similar teasing just a few months before, showed about as much mercy as Garrett had shown him when Grace first came into the picture. “Makes sense. I always take my clients to church with me.” He turned to Fitz, seated in one of the chairs behind the sofa. “Don’t you?”

“In my case,” Fitz said, “my ‘clients’”—he actually made air quotes around the word—“are criminals who mostly end up in jail, but otherwise?—”

“I’m choosing to believe him.” Thomas had pulled his chair to the end of the couch, so Garrett had a good view of his face when he added, “Aspen’s hot. I think I’ll ask her out.”

Garrett wasn’t sure exactly what his face did, but his thoughts on that remark must’ve shown.

His friends laughed.

Thomas gestured toward Garrett. “And we have our answer.”

“You have nothing,” Garrett snapped, trying hard not to give in. It was a matter of principle. “I can be friends with a woman without it turning romantic, even if the rest of you idiots can’t. I mean, she’s smart and funny and I enjoy her company. What’s wrong with that?”

“Sure,” Reid said. “Why would you want to date a woman like her? She sounds awful.”

James added, “And let’s not forget Thomas’s observation, not that I noticed, but I hear she’s attractive.”

“The word was ‘hot.’” Braden snuggled little Desiree in his arms. “Not anywhere near as pretty as your mommy, sweet girl. I’m just quoting Tommy over there.” He looked up from the wide-eyed baby to Thomas. “I say go for it, man.”

Garrett did his best to keep his expression neutral this time, but the thought of Thomas asking Aspen out…

It grated. More than that. It filled him with equal parts dread and fury. Maybe he and Aspen were just friends at the moment, but Garrett wouldn’t mind if it were something more.

If she were going to date any of them, it should be him.

He would ask her out, too, if she weren’t moving to Florida.

If he weren’t supposed to be spying on her.

Thomas was watching him. For everybody else, this was all a big joke, but Thomas was serious. He’d pursue Aspen unless Garrett asked him not to.

So fine. He leveled his gaze at his friend. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

Thomas nodded once. “Fair enough.” He turned his attention to the game.

The rest of the guys chuckled, and the conversation resumed, though Garrett didn’t take part. Now that he’d admitted it, he couldn’t stop thinking about Aspen. He was attracted to her. She was beautiful, but it wasn’t just that. He liked her. He went out of his way to spend time with her not because he wanted to be a good neighbor but because he wanted to be with her.

All things considered, he needed to get over it, or it was going to be much harder when she moved away.

Or, God forbid, if she found out he was spying on her.

Which he wasn’t. And wouldn’t, even if Dean thought he would.

Fitz’s phone rang, and he snatched it from the coffee table. He listened, then met Garrett’s eyes. “What time?” He waited through the answer, then said, “Tell her to wait until one of us comes to get her. Nobody should enter until the police do a thorough search.”

Considering Fitz’s gaze hadn’t wavered, Garrett had a very strong suspicion that the her in question must be Aspen.

He got that acid-drop feeling in his stomach. “What happened?”

But Fitz spoke into the phone. It must be Tabby. “No. You stay there. In your—” His eyes widened, and he averted his gaze. “With all that company, you need to stay home. I’ll be there soon.” He hung up the phone.

“What happened?” Garrett said.

“Aspen’s alarm is going off. She’s at our house, so?—”

He lurched to his feet. “She’s waiting for me?”

“She doesn’t have a car. She was trying to get one of the women to drive her home, but Tabby thought?—”

“I’ll get her.” Garrett dug his keys from his pocket on his way out the door.

Six minutes later, Garrett pulled up outside Fitz and Tabby’s house. Before he shifted into park, Aspen stepped outside and hurried to the passenger side. He pushed open the door, and she climbed in. “Thanks for?—”

“Do you know what happened?”

“The alarm company called and asked if I was at home. They said my alarm was going off. This happened about twenty minutes ago. They sent the police.”

Thank heavens he’d gotten the alarm installed.

A cruiser idled in her driveway. Aspen’s SUV wasn’t there. “Where’s your car?”

“I moved it to the garage.”

Her front door was wide open, and a cop stepped onto the stoop as Garrett parked.

Aspen hurried up the walk, Garrett right behind her.

The uniformed officer asked, “Do you live here?”

“I’m Aspen Kincaid. I own the house.”

He stepped aside for her to enter, and Garrett followed, pulling the door closed. No fire smoldered in the fireplace. She’d need one, considering how cold it was in the house.

“I’m Officer Tyler. The front door was wide open when we arrived, so we went ahead and searched. Nobody’s here.”

Aspen nodded but said nothing.

Garrett asked, “Any chance you didn’t get the door closed when you left? Maybe the wind blew it open.” His hopes that this was all a mistake fled when Aspen shook her head.

“I closed the door and locked it behind me. I remember because it was no easy feat with a plate of cookies in my hands.”

Tyler added, “It looks like the lock was picked.” He opened the door again and lit the area around the keyhole with his flashlight. Garrett saw what he was looking at and stepped away so Aspen could see as well. “Unless those scrapes were there already,” the cop said.

Before Aspen could answer, Garrett said, “I replaced that lock myself a few weeks ago. There were no markings on it.”

Aspen’s eyebrows lifted, giving him an I can speak for myself look .

“Sorry.” He breathed deeply and stepped into the living room, telling himself to shut up.

She turned back to the cop. “What else did you find?”

“We think whoever did it came inside, despite the blaring alarm.”

The alarm was off now. The alarm company must have done that. Or maybe the cops had some magic way of getting it done.

Aspen looked around, but the living area looked untouched. “What makes you think he came in?”

“Upstairs.”

As the cop said the word, a second uniformed officer jogged down the stairs. “Master bedroom’s the worst.” When he reached the bottom, he stuck out his hand. “Officer Fontier. Sorry about this. Far as I can tell, the burglar spent most of his time in the master.”

Aspen said, “Can I?—?”

“Go ahead.”

She was halfway up before she turned to Garrett. “Will you come with me?”

He jogged up to join her, thankful she’d asked. He hadn’t wanted to intrude, but everything in his being ached to know what had happened.

All the doors were open, but the extra bedrooms seemed untouched.

The junk room was almost completely empty. He’d known she’d gone through the things in there but was still surprised to see it, considering what a mess it’d been.

They continued to the master.

She froze in the doorway, but he could see over her head.

The room was wrecked. Her clothes were strewn all over the floor. The bedding had been ripped off the bed.

The bureau drawers were open. One lay face down on the carpet.

The bathroom looked about the same.

He swallowed a rise of nausea at the sight and followed Aspen inside the smaller space. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and comfort her.

But she was focused on a box on the bathroom counter. It was brown leather, about the size of a bag of hot dog buns, and wide open, its contents spilling out.

Jewelry.

“Is something missing?”

She picked through the pieces, then shook her head. “Not even the necklace Dad gave me for graduation…” She lifted the chain, and he saw a sizable diamond surrounded by other diamonds dangling from her hand.

Finding the treasure didn’t seem to comfort Aspen. Her skin turned ashen. “What did they want?” She glanced around, then moved past him back into the bedroom. “As far as I can tell, nothing is missing.” Again, she turned to him. “Are they trying to scare me? To…” She shook her head.

Officer Tyler stood in the doorway.

“How long did it take you to get here?” Garrett couldn’t help the irritation in his voice as he gestured to the space. “He wasn’t in any hurry.”

“We were in town,” Tyler said, voice level. “It’s about a fifteen minute?—”

“I know where town is,” Garrett snapped.

The officer didn’t react to his tone, focusing on Aspen. “Let’s go back downstairs.”

She led the group to the living room, where she sat on the sectional.

Garrett sat beside her and took her hand.

Officer Tyler stood nearby. “You didn’t see anything missing?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. He didn’t even take the jewelry.”

The two police officers looked at each other. Tyler said, “We noticed that. We’ve had some trouble at this house in the past.”

Garrett said, “I told her the story about the previous occupant.”

“After that,” Tyler said. “Kids, I think, wanting to check out the basement. Since the place was unoccupied…”

A voice came through one of the walkie-talkies, and a moment later, Fontier pulled open the front door.

Cote, the chief of police, stepped in. He was an older, heavyset man who’d been on the force since Garrett had moved to Coventry. Considering all the trouble he’d gotten into when he lived with his parents, it was rather astounding that he hadn’t had a run-in with Cote. In fact, they hadn’t met until Garrett had helped Andrew find Grace and Lily that fall.

Cote greeted Garrett with a nod and then introduced himself to Aspen, who explained what she’d found.

“You’re sure there’s nothing missing?”

She sighed, then pushed off the sofa. “I haven’t checked the kitchen. Let me just…” She disappeared through the door. When she came back, her skin looked even paler than it had before.

He wouldn’t have thought it possible.

“My laptop’s missing.”

Cote made a note while Garrett kicked himself. At the hardware store on Friday, he’d suggested she buy a video doorbell, but she’d balked at the idea, arguing that it wasn’t as if her middle-of-the-night visitor was going to knock.

If they’d gotten it, they’d have a recording of whoever’d broken into her place.

He should have insisted. Or bought it himself.

“Your car wasn’t here?” Cote asked. He’d settled on the other side of the L-shaped sectional.

“It should be in the garage.”

Tyler said, “It is. We checked.”

Aspen continued. “I moved it today, but it’s been in the driveway since I got here the other day.”

“So, presumably, the burglar didn’t believe you were home.” He peered at her over reading glasses. “That’s good news.”

None of this was good news.

But he saw what Cote was getting at.

Though she was putting up a good front, Aspen looked shaken, almost on the verge of falling apart.

Garrett slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a slight hug, just enough to remind her that she wasn’t alone. She gave him a grateful look before focusing on Cote again.

Cote asked a few more questions, told her to be sure and change any passwords at sites that might be vulnerable with her laptop in a burglar’s hands, and promised to keep in touch.

Just like that, he and the uniformed officers were finished asking questions as if they’d done all they could.

Maybe they had, but Garrett wasn’t sure he’d ever feel comfortable leaving her alone again.

Garrett watched as Aspen saw them out and closed the door. She locked it, then double-checked, before she returned to the sofa and collapsed beside him. “I can’t believe this.”

“I’m sorry. My laptop is in the truck. You can use it to log on to your accounts and change your passwords.”

“My dad always harped on me about security. None of my passwords are saved on my hard drive. Even if they manage to break into it, they won’t get anything out of it. It’s just…it was mine. Why would somebody do this?”

He pulled her close, tucking her against his side, wanting to comfort her, to protect her. “I don’t know.”

“Do you think it was my stalker guy?”

He shrugged, wanting to give her answers he didn’t have.

And then her shoulders heaved. She turned her face against his flannel shirt and sobbed.

“Hey, hey.” He tightened his hold, wishing he knew how to comfort her. Wishing he understood what she was feeling.

She’d had so many things to deal with in such a short time—the break-in, the stalker, the rude people in town, not to mention the anniversary of her father’s death. No wonder her emotions overflowed.

“It’s okay,” he said, patting her back, feeling useless. “It’s going to be okay.”

She backed up and wiped her tears with the sleeves of her sweater. “You don’t know what I…” She shook her head, sniffed, and looked away.

“What don’t I know?”

“Tabby’s mother was at her house tonight,” Aspen said. “She knew my mom. She knew the”—her voice hitched—“the story.” Aspen swallowed hard, eyes filling again. “She said my mother blew up a building.” The pitch of her voice rose. “She killed a woman.”

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.” He pulled her against his chest.

Dean had implied that Jane Kincaid had killed someone, but Garrett had guessed there’d been a car accident or something. He’d never imagined… “Was she sure it was your mother?”

Aspen nodded against his chest. “She seemed sure. But before I could question her further, I got the call about the alarm.”

“Okay.” He held her close, not knowing what to say. Not knowing how to react to such news. No wonder this town hated Jane Kincaid. No wonder they wanted to know where she was.

“And now…” Aspen pushed back and gestured to the house. “There’s nothing here, Garrett. There’s nothing here to tell me where my mother is or what happened to her. Why did Dad buy this place? Why send me here to learn all this awful stuff?”

“I don’t know.”

“It doesn’t make sense. There has to be something.” She leaned back and took a deep breath. “I don’t understand what he was thinking. Why wait until he was on his deathbed to tell me what he knew? Why not write me a letter explaining? Better yet, why not be honest with me all my life?”

“What do you mean? Did your father?—?”

“He told me my mother got into trouble and then disappeared. But when I asked for details, he acted as if he knew nothing more, nothing of consequence, anyway. But buying this place, asking me from his deathbed to do right by her… He knew more than he ever let on. Why lie to me?”

Aspen hadn’t told Garrett that whole story, but now didn’t seem to be the time to ask for details. “Your father didn’t expect to get hit by a car. He thought he had time. This wasn’t his plan. Maybe he never planned to tell you anything.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He heard the frustration in her voice and made sure his response was gentle despite it. “Are you glad you know what you know? I mean, is this better for you?”

“She was my mother!”

He nodded, unsure exactly what she meant by the statement.

“I have a right to know.”

“Maybe,” he said slowly. “Maybe you could have lived your entire life never knowing, and maybe you’d have been happier if you had.”

She dropped her head into her hands, hiding her face from him.

She didn’t speak again for a long time.

While she processed what she’d learned, or grieved, or whatever it was she was doing, he lit a fire in the fireplace, then checked all the doors to make sure they were secure. They were. If her alarm sounded while she was home, she’d know it. She had the gun to protect herself. The cops hadn’t asked about it, which led him to believe she had it on her. That was something. He’d taught her how to use it Friday night, even having her fire a couple of shots at a tree in the backyard. She’d hit it—albeit from ten feet away, but an intruder in the house wouldn’t be farther than that.

Whether or not she would shoot in self-defense—that he couldn’t know, which made him never want to leave her side.

In the kitchen, he found an herbal tea bag and heated a mug of water for her. Deborah had told him once that tea warmed a person better than coffee, and herbal wouldn’t have caffeine. He settled in beside her again. “I thought you might want something.”

She dropped her hands from her face and took the mug. “Thank you.”

He nodded, and she sipped, then set it on the table.

“Is it okay?” he asked. “I wasn’t sure if you took sugar or milk or?—”

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

“The gun wasn’t stolen, was it? Did you leave it in your room?”

“You told me to keep it with me. It’s in my purse.”

“Did you get the holster?”

Her lips hinted at the slightest smile. “It came today, but… I feel like an idiot with that thing on. And it’s not exactly comfortable.”

He didn’t want to make her nervous, but on the other hand, all things considered… “Neither are intruders.”

She conceded the point with a nod. “The thing is, I can’t quite figure out how it works. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Go get it, and we’ll figure it out together.”

She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with the neoprene strap, which she held out to him.

It couldn’t have been more obvious how it worked, but he didn’t say that. He laid it flat on the coffee table. “Where’s the gun?”

She dug it out of the bottom of her purse. Fat lot of good it would do there. Hold on a second, Mr. Murderer, while I find my weapon.

Wisely, he held his tongue, checked that the safety was engaged, and slid the gun into position. “It goes here.”

“Yeah, I get that, but… It’s going to stick out. I thought the holster would hide the fact that I was carrying it.”

“If it were tucked away too much, then how would you get to it?”

Her mouth opened, then closed, and she shrugged.

He lifted the strap off the table. “Arms up.”

She complied, and he positioned it around her middle just above the waist of her slacks. He perched on the sofa and secured it, trying not to pay too much attention to her trim waist and the faint scent of vanilla wafting off her. “Is that comfortable?”

When she said nothing, he looked up to find her cheeks were pink.

“Is that where I’m supposed to wear it?”

“It’s pretty flexible.” He turned it so the gun was on her right side. “There, you can grab it quickly. Or you could put it”—he slid the weapon toward the front—“here, if that feels more natural.”

“None of this feels natural. I really don’t think?—”

“You could slide it around to the small of your back, though that wouldn’t exactly be comfortable in a chair.” He wasn’t going to argue with her. She could wear it or not. She didn’t have to do what he said, so there was no sense in them discussing it further. He backed away and indicated the area around his chest. “I know some women like to wear it higher, under, uh… You know, you have some space there beneath, uh…”

She giggled. “I see what you’re saying.” She scooted the holster up beneath her breasts, then shook her head. “Yeah, how stupid do I look trying to get it from there?” Her right elbow jutted up as she pulled the gun from the holster.

“I take it your goal is to defend yourself and look good doing it?”

That made her smile. “But wait. I wouldn’t wear it over my clothes, so first I’d have to lift my shirt, flash the guy.”

He looked away, realizing what she was saying and trying not to picture it. “It would be a heckuva distraction.”

That elicited another laugh.

When he glanced back, she’d pushed the strap down and below her pants’ waistline. “I guess that’s okay. I could tighten it, and it could double as a girdle.”

As if she needed that. As if she wasn’t enticing enough already.

“I feel like a crazy person,” she said.

Her words brought Garrett’s thoughts and eyes back where they belonged. “If you were crazy, you would make no effort to protect yourself, despite the stalker and the burglar. This doesn’t make you crazy, it makes you sane.”

She held his eye contact for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. Okay, you’re right. I’ll try to get used to it.” But she moved to take it off.

He laid his hand over hers on her hip. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t need to wear it here.”

“First, you want to get used to it. You just said that. Second, if someone were to break in, don’t you want it with you?”

“But...”

He heaved a sigh. “Do what you want, but if I were you, I’d wear it around the house. Not when you’re sleeping, but have it close by. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

She studied him for a long moment, then collapsed on the sofa. “Fine. I’ll keep it on. For now.”

Until you leave. She didn’t need to say the words out loud.

“Maybe we should revisit the idea of you moving back to the hotel.”

He thought she’d shoot that down immediately, but she seemed to consider it. “He or she or…they were looking for something. I don’t know what, but if there’s some clue about my mother’s whereabouts?—”

“Is that what you think they’re after?”

“What else could it be? If Marion Eaton was right, my mother killed a woman. Dad told me she got into some trouble and then disappeared, so I’m thinking she must have gone missing right after that happened. I mean, that day, that week? I don’t know. Maybe they think I know where she is.”

Her words tracked very closely with what Uncle Dean had said.

“Or maybe they think the answer is here at the house. If that’s the case, then I need to be the person to find it, to do right by her as Dad asked. If they think I know, then moving to town won’t do me any good. They’ll find me there, whoever they are.” She shook her head. “No. No, unless I leave town entirely, I don’t see how moving to a hotel will do me any good. I might be safer—maybe—but I’d be exposing the house. I need to stay here and finish what Dad started.”

Garrett regarded her a long moment. Her cheeks had more color than they’d had before, but her eye makeup was smudged, thanks to her tears. She looked somehow both exhausted and determined. “Would your father really want you to put yourself in danger?”

Aspen’s eye contact faltered. “He’s not here.” She met his gaze again, shoulders squared. “I’m going to figure out what happened back then—and find my mother—and no intruder or stalker is going to stop me.”

He wouldn’t be able to talk Aspen out of her chosen course, which meant he would need to stick very, very close.

But first, he was going to find out exactly what his uncle knew.