This was the closest Rebecca had been to a breakthrough in the case in years—she could feel it. Energy hummed through her at the thought they could be getting close to solving a fifteen-year-old puzzle and possibly finding her brother.
Thoughts buzzed around in her head. If Kramer had been a suspect, why would they have let him go? Wouldn’t the sheriff have interviewed him? What about the FBI?
Of course, there were more leads than people to handle them back then. Even at twelve, Rebecca had known that much.
Ryan had been quiet for the entire half-hour trip so far. “My uncle is a drunk. It’s possible he’s remembering the name wrong.”
“I thought about that,” Brody said, flashing a knowing look toward Rebecca. “Never hurts to take it seriously, though.”
Rebecca knew both men were trying to soften the blow if this turned out to be a nonlead, and she loved them for it.
* * *
BY THE TIME Ryan had dropped them at the restaurant where Brody’s truck was still parked, Rebecca’s thoughts ping-ponged from Thomas Kramer to Brody.
They had a name, Thomas Kramer, and the very real possibility he would lead her to the truth.
For the rest of the ride to Brody’s place, she vacillated between excitement and fear. Questions assaulted her. What if they’d found him? What if they hadn’t?
What if they wrapped this case and she and Brody walked away from each other for good?
The truth was that she liked being close, having him depend on her. Making sure he ate and didn’t overexert himself were things that made her ridiculously happy.
There was something so right about taking care of Brody.
He’d barely set his keys on the table in the foyer when she said, “I’ll grab the letters to see if one of them is signed by Kramer.”
“While you do that, I’ll see if I can find any news about him or an address,” Brody said, moving to the laptop in the kitchen.
When he came back into the open-concept room, he brought the laptop with him and moved to the sofa. “It’s more comfortable over here if you’d like to join me.”
She did, tucking her foot under her bottom as she sat down. They had a name. And she had a feeling this all would be over soon. “We’re getting close.”
“We don’t know if Thomas Kramer is our guy yet. If not, this isn’t the end.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks despite her best efforts to hold them back. She hadn’t expected to get so emotional with him, dammit.
“You told me something the other day and it made a hell of a lot of sense,” he said.
Wiping a few tears away, she said, “What was that?”
“Holding in emotion is dangerous. Not talking about the things that bother us, bottling them up, doesn’t lead to anything good. And I think you’re putting on a brave front right now.”
His words hit home and the floodgates opened. Tears streamed and she couldn’t hold them back if she’d tried.
“Get over here,” he said.
Rebecca was in his arms before she could recount all the reasons this would be a bad idea, her face buried in his strong chest.
“You’re scared and there’s nothing wrong with that,” he said, his voice a deep, steady timbre. His quiet strength was like the river that cut through granite.
This was the closest she’d been to figuring out the past.
Rebecca pulled herself together. “I’ll be okay.”
She picked up the stack of letters and set them on her lap.
Brody kissed her forehead before opening the file on his laptop.
It didn’t take long for him to say, “Look here.”
Her heart skipped a beat as she read the screen. “Are those notes from his interview?”
“Looks like it,” Brody said. “Did you notice this?”
“He had a child who died at age seven,” she said, horrified. “Wouldn’t that make him a prime suspect?”
“I would think so,” Brody said quickly, his eyes skimming the file. “Here. It says that his alibi checked out and that’s why he was cleared of suspicion.”
“It says he was caring for a sick aunt that weekend,” Rebecca said. “She could’ve lied for him.”
“I’d put money on it.”
“Any chance we can find his address?” she asked.
Brody minimized the window on his screen and then pulled up a search engine. He tapped the keys on the keyboard. “Nothing. Although, his address might not be listed.”
“Or he could live with someone else. Another relative,” she said.
“True.” Brody rocked his head.
“Any chance his aunt’s name and address is in that report?” Rebecca’s pulse raced in her chest.
Brody pulled up the file and scrolled through the entire page. “It’s not here. When we go to the festival tonight, I’ll ask Lester about Kramer.”
“I feel like we should be doing something more right now,” she said, feeling antsy. Answers were close. She could feel it.
“We are,” he said. “And we will. I know patience is difficult right now, believe me, but the truth will come out soon enough.”
“I want to talk to this Kramer guy.”
“We will,” he reassured. “Right now, there’s not much more we can do until we talk to Lester tonight.”
“You’re probably right.” Her heart trilled against her rib cage and she needed to slow down her breathing, find a way to calm herself.
Looking around Brody’s place, at the comfortable decor, she could see herself living in something like this with him. In fact, this was exactly the kind of place she’d live in if she had a ranch. She loved the open space of the landscape, and the Texas sky was nowhere brighter in the day or more majestic at night than in Mason Ridge. Chicago had been wonderful, too, for different reasons. And mostly, it had been different.
Walking down the street there she could be anyone. She was no longer “that girl.” No one whispered.
And yet, Mason Ridge would always be home in her heart.
Was it because Brody was there?
“I didn’t leave you all those years ago, Brody, so much as run away from here, from everything I felt. I needed to sort out my emotions, but I hurt you in the process. I’m so sorry.”
Brody lifted her chin until her face was raised and she looked into his clear blue eyes. She’d expected to find pity in them, but instead she saw something hungry, something primal. Need?
“What time should we leave?” she asked.
“We have a little while. The festival workers will be setting up for opening soon so I doubt we’d get in without a warrant, which we don’t have.”
“We have a little time to kill?” Rebecca ran her finger along Brody’s strong jawline. Neither looked away.