Page 26 of Night Prey
“The games we play growing up. It’s crazy.”
“And what games did you play?”
She picked at the corner of the box flap, and he thought for a moment she might not share.
“I worked hard to be invisible,” she finally said. “To follow the rules and not get in trouble. I’d witnessed bad foster homes, and I knew Reed and I were very blessed to be in the last home. I couldn’t give my foster parents a reason to not want me. Or a reason to separate me and Reed.”
He looked at her long and hard and saw beneath the hard shell she wore to the little girl who was still afraid to be rejected and removed from her brother. It took everything Ian had in him not to circle the box and take her into his arms. To promise to be by her side and protect her for the rest of her life.
The thought scared him to his depths. He’d never, not once, had that desire. Sure, he served and protected on the job, but the deep emotion flooding his brain and heart was different. It was almost visceral. And he was the wrong guy to be having such feelings. If he’d learned anything about himself over the years, he’d learned that he wasn’t cut out to have a deepI do foreverkind of relationship.
He nodded at the box. “I’ll carry this into the house. That way we can sit down and go through the pictures once we’re done reviewing all the other boxes.”
“Great.” But the pain of his abrupt change of subject cloaked her tone with a heaviness that hurt his heart even more.
She’d shared her greatest fear, and he pretty much ignored it, preparing to run out of the room. He wanted to ask for a do-over, but no good would come of that. None. He snatched up the heavy box and climbed the stairs. He put the albums in the living room and headed for the kitchen to get a couple bottles of water.
Back in the garage, he handed one to her. “Thought you might be thirsty.”
“Ever the gentleman.”
“Hey, now.” He worked hard to conjure up a smile and take on a light tone. “Don’t go ruining the tough-guy rep I worked hard to develop.”
She laughed, but it was halfhearted.
He set down his bottle and turned to another box, telling her he was done talking in a not-so-subtle way. He only had to step away for a minute to put aside the discussion he’d always wanted to have with her and focus on the work.
He dug into the box, finding a large jewelry box, a few scarves, women’s sweaters, and a handful of books. He heard her searching another box, and he picked through the jewelry box, then flipped through the books to be sure they didn’t contain anything unusual. All he located was a torn bookmark with Malone’s school picture on it. He could easily imagine her as a child, sitting on her mother’s lap and listening to a story. Wasn’t hard to then picture Malone as a mother, lavishing on her child all the love she’d missed out on from her birth parents. But he didn’t even know if she wanted children. Or wanted to get married. No way he would ask and take them back to the personal realm.
Her phone rang, and she looked at it. “It’s Sierra.” Malone tapped her speaker button. “I’m with Ian, so I put you on speaker.”
“It’s about the ballroom,” Sierra said. “I found the GSR that you mentioned. The only other evidence I located were boot prints. They contained bark mulch and dust that carried in on the treads of your shooter’s shoe. Or, at least, I’m assuming it’s your shooter. Find his boots and we can compare with the prints I lifted.”
“Great work,” Malone said.
Ian had to agree. The criminalists didn’t have boot prints on the evidence list.
“Mulches are unique,” Sierra added. “We can compare to any mulch if we locate his home.”
“Couldn’t he have just cut across a mulched area at the hotel?” Ian asked.
“He could have,” Sierra said, and Ian heard a baby crying in the background. “But I’ve already done a comparison to the hotel’s mulch, and it’s not a match. Let me know if you locate a suspect’s boots, and I’ll do the comparison.”
“Thanks, Sierra,” Malone said.
“As you can hear, someone’s hungry.” Sierra chuckled. “I gotta go. Call me if you need my help with anything else.”
The call ended.
“It would be nice if our department could afford to use Veritas’s services on a regular basis,” he said. “Not that I’m dissing our criminalists, but the Veritas team members take things up a notch and work faster.”
“I am very fortunate to have a connection,” Malone said sincerely. “They often help my clients for no charge, and I know they do a lot of other pro bono work too.”
“Reed’s lucky to be married to someone who works there. Wish I could marry into a connection.” He chuckled.
Their gazes met, and her expression changed from interest in the boxes to interest in him. He hoped she wasn’t thinking he was serious. He wouldn’t entertain the idea of marriage even as a joke. Getting married was the last thing on his life’s to-do list.
He jerked his gaze free and went back to searching his box. They silently worked their way through stacks of boxed memories while the air sizzled with tension. Finally, he happened upon what looked like office records. He dug through the files to find records compiled by the executor for the Rices’ will. A white binder held the accident report and a photocopy of a bill of sale for the Mustang.
