Troy hated to have such irrefutable proof, but he knew the investigators and was sure they had done a thorough job.
He’d always believed in them, but Randall Bowe’s betrayal had lit a fire under the entire team. Even though no one else in Grave Gulch’s CSI division was suspected of colluding with Bowe, they all had something to prove.
And they’d all been working overtime to prove it.
“It’s just like Detective Shea said. Before.” Evangeline’s voice was low, the distinct notes of defeat lining her words. “His K-9 didn’t catch a scent, and CSI is saying nothing is there, too.”
“Yes.”
“Which means you think I’m lying.”
“No, I didn’t say that.”
“You’re thinking it, which is the same thing.”
Her burger and fries still sat on her plate, untouched. Dark circles rimmed the fine skin beneath her eyes and a defeated slump rounded her shoulders.
“No, I’m not. Quit putting words in my mouth and quit assuming you know what I’m thinking.”
“What else could you be thinking?” she asked. “I called in a murder and not only did you not find a body, but you haven’t found a bit of evidence that suggests there ever was one.”
She was right. Empirically he knew that. Yet bodies didn’t suddenly disappear. And well-respected members of the community who worked in positions of authority simply didn’t go around seeing murders where none existed. “Then something else is going on.”
“What else could possibly be going on? I know what I saw, Troy. I know what murder victims look like. And I saw one. Yet there’s no one there.”
“Then we figure out the angle.”
“What angle? There is no angle.”
He sat down as if he hadn’t heard her. She was on edge and he’d spent enough time around people to know that part of defusing a tense situation was to avoid further engagement. This woman had a great legal brain and sooner or later it was going to get its way past her anxiety.
In the meantime...
Well, in the meantime he had a new focus. And that started with getting some food into her.
“You’re going to eat right now?” Her high-pitched voice was just shy of a screech, which only reinforced his tactic.
“Yes, I’m hungry. You should be, too.”
“How am I going to eat?”
He shoveled in a fry and kept his tone light. Irritatingly so, if he had to guess. “One bite at a time.”
“Why?”
“To keep your strength up,” he said around a mouthful of burger.
The wariness never left her eyes but she did sit back down at the table. With a small headshake she reached for a fry. And he didn’t miss the way her eyes fell to half-mast as crispy potato and salty coating hit her tongue.
Good.
Hell, it was damn good. And getting some food into her was a step in the right direction.
He figured they might be out of the woods when she picked up her burger and took a bite.
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
She eyed him narrowly over the burger, before nodding. “Yeah, it is.”
“Never underestimate the power of food.”
“Is that a rule of the law?”
“No, it’s a rule of my stepmother.” He couldn’t help but smile as he pictured Leanne Palmer Colton standing in the middle of the family kitchen. “She always says very little can’t be helped by a bit of food and a good night’s sleep.”
“She’s a wise woman.”
“Yes, she is.”
Leanne was amazing. She had come into their father’s life, and by extension, his and Desiree’s, before they even knew they needed her. But she found a way to reach them—all of them—through the nearly paralyzing grief of Amanda McMahon Colton’s horrifying murder.
A big heart and love that overflowed from it had been Leanne’s secret. She’d fallen in love with all of them, she’d told Troy once, and knew that her life had become complete when he and his father and sister had come into hers.
It was a lesson he’d carried with him. That even in the midst of sadness and tragedy, something good and meaningful could flourish and grow. It never diminished the pain of losing his mother, but through Leanne’s love, he had found a way through it. They all had.
Even now, she was the first to call him on the anniversary of his mother’s death and she’d made sure that photos of Amanda and his father, Geoff, were in the family home, and on the mantel. They sat alongside photos of the family they’d raised together. Troy and Desiree, Geoff and Leanne’s two biological daughters, Annalise and Grace, and their adoptive son, Palmer, had all grown up knowing they were loved.
They were a family, Troy thought with no small amount of happiness and deep-seated pride. One that had been born as much as made.
Through love.
His father was a good man and Troy had always known Geoff would do anything to keep him and Desiree safe. But finding Leanne had made all the difference. Her generosity of spirit was a gift and Troy knew that he was beyond fortunate for it. All his siblings were.
“You speak of her with such love. You’re quite lucky. Not everyone speaks of a step-parent in that way.”
“I am lucky. Desiree and I talk about that a lot. How we kind of hit the stepmom jackpot with Leanne.”
His mother’s murder was something that was well known around Grave Gulch, and he had no doubt that Evangeline knew the story. Yet Troy still felt compelled to add, “There are times I think my mother sent her straight to us. That somehow she knew we never would have survived without Leanne’s love.”
“That’s a very beautiful way to look at it.”
“I think it’s true.”
“I think you’re right.” Evangeline opened her mouth, then closed it again, as if she were hesitant to say something. Troy waited, giving her a moment, curious to see if she’d continue.
He was pleased when she started in on her story. “When I was little, my grandmother from the Philippines came to visit. She told me a story of a small bird that lived in her village growing up.”
She stopped again, seeming to question herself, but Troy waved her on. “Please. I’d like to hear it.”
“She said the bird was little but very beautiful, its feathers plumed in rich shades of blue and purple. And she often heard it singing.”
Troy set his burger down and reached for a napkin to wipe his fingers. He sensed this conversation was important to her and felt that she needed his full attention.
“A rash of crows had come to the village and one morning she found the small bird on the ground, hurt and on the verge of death from an attack of the larger birds.” Evangeline played with one of her fries, taking a small bite as she summoned the words of her story. “My grandmother took the bird in, terrified it would die but unable to leave it alone. She cared for it and nursed it back to health.”
“That’s very caring of her.” And not a surprise based on what he knew of Evangeline. She was known for her strong preparation in the courtroom. She fought hard, but fairly and compassionately, seeking outcomes that would help someone find the road back to society, instead of away.
“It was caring, but in a lot of ways it wasn’t enough. The bird grew strong again, but it wouldn’t sing, and its feathers faded, their brilliance turning a mottled, grayish color.
“It was as if the attack had taken away its spirit. I remember being so sad when she told me that story. Because I could picture the bird in my mind and could feel his pain.”
“It’s part of life.”
“I suppose it is, but I still thought it was sad. That even after being saved, the bird couldn’t quite find its way.” She took a deep breath. “But fortunately, that wasn’t all. My grandmother cared for the bird for many months. She never heard it sing again, but she did see it was healing. And one day she was on her morning walk and found another bird, not nearly as broken as the colorful one, but still in need of help.”
Although he had a sense of where the story was going, Troy was captivated, and wanted to hear to the end of her tale.
“She nursed the new bird, splinting its wing and giving it the proper time to heal. Through it all, she kept the two birds near each other in side-by-side cages. As days passed, the bird with the broken wing got better. And so did the colorful bird who needed to heal.”
She leaned forward and laid a hand on his. “It’s a gift, that sort of love. Companionship. Understanding. And the time to heal. So I believe you when you say that your mother sent Leanne.”
“Thank you for that. And I agree with you.”
Evangeline sat back in her chair, her eyes far away with a memory.
“Is your grandmother still alive?”
“No.” She shook her head. “She died the year after that visit. My mother was devastated to lose her. Even more devastated when my father wouldn’t allow her to go to the funeral.”
“Why not?”
He saw it then. Despite the myriad of emotions, he’d seen cross Evangeline’s face throughout the evening, that one was new.
And the sign to back off was crystal clear.
“Not everyone is fortunate to have an understanding companion like that colorful bird.”
Although his mother’s death was a painful subject, because it had happened when he was a toddler, he’d spent his entire life dealing with it and discussing it. Troy recognized in Evangeline’s quiet the truth of her situation, as an adult living with the aftereffects of trauma. For her, there existed a desperate need to keep that suffering buried, because it lived much too close to the surface most of the time.
He was curious about her experience but respected her privacy all the same.
And wondered what had made her feel comfortable enough to tell him the story of the bird and her grandmother’s passing in the first place.
Although she’d intended to only eat a few bites, Evangeline stared down at her now-empty plate in wonder. She had no idea how he did it, but Troy had managed to get her talking, weaving from one subject to the next, and enjoying her meal throughout.
There were those few strained moments, when she’d spoken of her family. Why she’d even brought up her grandmother’s death she had no idea. Grandmother’s passing had nothing to do with the story of the two healing birds, yet she’d blithely followed that story with another even more personal one.
Why?
Even as she mentally berated herself, she couldn’t deny his kindness in moving their conversation on to something new after she’d so obviously shut down. Her father’s mercurial anger and unfair edicts over her mother weren’t something she discussed with anyone. She didn’t even discuss them with her mother any longer, the years of living with that unprompted rage having done their fair share of damage to Dora Whittaker’s nerves.
And to her own.
Yet something about sharing a meal with Troy and the words seemed to spill out, almost of their own accord.
Was it because she felt a kindred spirit in him?
She knew the story of his mother’s death. There were few in Grave Gulch—and certainly no one around law enforcement—who were unaware of the terrible tragedy. Not only was Amanda McMahon Colton murdered when her two children were small, but her killer had never been found. It was a reality that haunted the family and something she’d heard spoken of more than once.
Amanda’s death had somehow galvanized the Coltons. It was as if they all understood that justice wasn’t always served and it was essential to do everything you could to work for that outcome. As a result, most of them had gone into law enforcement of some sort. And still, despite every effort, there were cases that remained open and cold, a frustrating reality for the loved ones left behind.
“So Danny is enjoying being spoiled even more than usual,” Troy continued their thread of conversation, pulling Evangeline back from the wayward direction of her thoughts. “My father and Leanne do a darn fine job with their grandson, but now that Stavros is in his life he’s a very happy toddler.”
She knew Troy spoke of Stavros Makros, the ER doctor who was now engaged to his sister. He’d talked of the man throughout their dinner and it was easy to see Troy genuinely liked his sister’s fiancé.
“And Uncle Troy doesn’t spoil his nephew?” Evangeline said with a smile. She could only assume what a wonderful experience it was to have nieces and nephews. She didn’t have any as she had no siblings, but the way people talked about the little ones in their lives had always made her wish for some tiny relatives of her own to spoil.
Or even children of her own. A fact she quickly shut down at the reality she had no partner to make a family with. Something she’d always hoped would change but, as of yet, hadn’t.
“You found me out.” He lifted his hands and shrugged his shoulders, the move enough to pull her from her dour thoughts. “I just can’t resist that little guy.”
“Although you and I have known each other through work for a long time, I can’t say the same about your sister. Is she in law enforcement, too?”
“Desiree is an artist. She does some part-time sketch work for the GGPD. She was essential to catching the kidnapper last month who went after Danny.”
“How so?”
“It was all in the eyes.”
“Desiree was able to capture that in her sketch?”
Troy nodded. “Amazing, isn’t it? But yes. Although the woman had a face covering on, Desiree could see her eyes before she tried to grab Danny in the park. When it happened again, during an incident in the hospital, Desiree was close enough to capture the look in her sketch.”
“And that saved your nephew?”
“It was Stavros again. He recognized the instability in the woman and understood they were dealing with someone battling mental illness. It was scary, but his medical training and his own personal experience ensured he knew the signs.”
“His own experience?” It felt like an intrusive question, yet it also seemed right to ask. Natural, even, as their conversation had unfolded throughout dinner.
“Stavros lost his own child several years ago. His ex-wife was unstable, a situation made worse when Stavros was awarded full custody. She kidnapped their child while in the middle of an episode, killing them both in a car accident during a snowstorm.”
“I am so sorry.” Those words often felt so useless, yet she meant every bit. “To live through that must have been awful.”
“I don’t think anyone ever gets over that. But I think the fact that he’s moving on with his life—” Troy hesitated “—and living again...it matters.”
“It does.”
Before she even realized his intention, Troy stood, dish in hand, and reached across the table to take hers.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“It’s my pleasure. I haven’t had such a lovely dinner companion in a long time. It’s been nice to sit and talk for a bit.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve been—” She broke off, not comfortable with how sad and lonely she sounded. Or how sad and lonely she would sound if she expressed how desperately she’d craved conversation these past few weeks. So instead, Evangeline settled for polite platitudes. They were safe. Easy. And they didn’t smack of those overtones of neediness that were about to come roaring out of her mouth once more. “It’s nice to have a professional discussion that can also blend with the personal.”
“I agree. And although I didn’t want to spoil your dinner, I would like to get your take on Len Davison.”
“You mean the psychopathic criminal I let go free?”
And there they were, right back to desperate and needy.
Troy had obviously keyed in on her words, his eyebrows slashing over that magnetic hazel gaze as he turned toward her after snapping the water on at the kitchen sink. “You didn’t let him go free.”
“I was the one who prosecuted him. Ineffectively. That rests on me.”
“Actually, it rests on Randall Bowe. In the information he falsified. In the records he deliberately didn’t keep.”
“Then I should have dug deeper.”
“On what? A man who had no history of criminal activity? One who also hadn’t shown signs of nefarious behavior?”
He twisted the water off, his economical motions tense. “Tell me, Evangeline. Dug deeper how? You relied on the information that was given to you. Information from the GGPD you should have been able to trust.”
“It’s not enough. I hold myself to a higher standard.”
“And you think I don’t? You think the rest of the GGPD doesn’t? You think Arielle Parks as the DA of Grave Gulch County doesn’t?”
There it was again. That flash of temper that suggested Troy Colton wasn’t at all fine with the way things were going in his jurisdiction.
“I know you hold yourself to a very high standard. My comments weren’t about you, nor were they meant to insult you.”
“I know that, Evangeline. That’s my point. We are all up against an enemy we never expected. A snake that got inside our garden. It’s humbling and it’s frustrating. But that doesn’t mean you stop fighting.”
All the internal struggles she had battled since going on leave from her job had made her feel so lonely. She’d been dealing with those accusations of failure all along, struggling with the consequences of her legal decisions and their impact on the community. And other than a few conversations with Arielle, not once in all that time had she experienced any kind of kinship with others. But here, now, talking to Troy, was different.
For the first time in quite a while she felt understood. And that meant more than she could say.
“Thank you. I needed to hear that. And I needed a perspective other than my own. More than I think I realized.”
She stared up at him, the two of them now standing side by side at her sink. He’d somehow managed to wash and rinse their dinner plates, all while delivering the raw truth of what the entire police and law enforcement community was dealing with. It was only as she handed him a towel from the counter, turning so they faced one another, that Evangeline realized just how physically close they were.
She was a tall woman, but he was still taller, and she had to look up at him as their eyes met. Whether it was a trick of the light or the quiet tenor of reflection after their heated words, she had no idea. But in that moment it was so nice to simply be.
With him.
The quiet tension spun out, Troy’s gaze never leaving hers. And it was only as she was about to move away that his hand came over her shoulder, pulling her close. He bent his head, his lips finding hers on a quiet sigh.
The kiss was unexpected and lovely, that sigh feathering over her lips on a warm exhale of breath. She leaned into it, moving closer into his arms, surprised at the immediate flare of desire that filled her. Yes, she’d been attracted to him. For a long time she’d both admired him and had a small crush on him. But this...
It was incendiary.
The immediate spark to flame of heat and need that flowed effortlessly between them.
The feel of his large hands as they gripped her shoulders, pulling her even closer.
The touch of his tongue to her lips as he sought entrance to her mouth.
It was overwhelming and heady, a fantasy coming to life.
And as she opened her lips against his, Evangeline knew this moment in time was everything.
Troy flowed with the waves of desire that battered him, head to toe and back again. He felt their power in the press of his lips against hers. The feel of her body as her lithe frame fit against him. The softness of her skin as his fingertips ran, featherlight, against her nape.
She was beautiful.
And, for the moment, every fantasy he’d ever had about Evangeline Whittaker was coming true. Right there in the middle of her kitchen.
Which was...a problem.
Troy stilled before dragging his lips from hers.
What was he doing?
She’d had a terrible night and he’d brought her home. There were still a ton of questions about what she’d seen in that downtown alleyway. And—
And she was a colleague. Yes, a distant one, but one he was sworn to protect, not kiss senseless in her kitchen.
“Troy?”
Her dark eyes were wide with desire, her pupils dilated despite the overhead lights above her sink.
“I’m sorry, Evangeline.” He dropped the hands that still cupped her shoulder and upper back as if suddenly singed by the heat through the thin material of her summer blouse. “I’m so sorry. That was forward and inappropriate of me.”
“No, I—” She took a few steps back, before pressing her hands together in a tight fold against her waist. “It’s fine. Really it is. Thank you for dinner.” Her gaze alighted on the sink. “And for doing the dishes, which you didn’t have to do.”
“It wasn’t a problem. Look, I should be going.”
He saw the tight, tense smile fall before she nodded, seemingly reassuring herself. “Of course.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow to check in.” On a frown, he pulled out his phone. “I don’t think I have your number and I want to make sure you answer if I call.”
“The dreaded robocall. I never answer those.”
“Me, either. So this will be easier. What’s your number?” Troy tapped it into his phone as she rattled the ten digits off, sending her a quick text once he had it in place in his contacts. “There. Now you have mine, too.”
He heard a distant ping from the direction of her purse, settled on a chair in the corner of the kitchen, and was satisfied he’d at least be able to reach her again to update her on the progress with her case.
“Troy.” He glanced up from his phone, well aware he was using technology as a distraction from the suddenly tense atmosphere in the kitchen. “Thank you. For everything. I needed a cop. But I also needed a friend.”
At her honesty, the awkwardness between them seemed to fall away. Yes, he was attracted to her, but he actually liked her, too. They had known one another for a long time and while they didn’t really cross social circles, they were friendly acquaintances. Kiss or no kiss, that meant something.
“I’m glad I could help.” He tucked his phone into his pocket and headed for the hallway. “Why don’t you follow me and lock up? I’ll call tomorrow to check in on you.”
“Will you promise me you’ll give me updates? Even if they continue to be inconclusive. I’d like to know what’s going on.”
He stilled, unwilling to give too many concessions on an active investigation, yet unable to fully say no. With that in the forefront of his thoughts, Troy stopped in the hallway, turning to look at Evangeline fully. It was only when he had her gaze, direct on his, that he spoke.
“I’ll share whatever I can, when I can. I meant what I said before. I believe you. But I won’t go against protocol and I won’t break the rules of an active investigation.”
“I’m not asking you—” She stopped herself, a small smile—the first he’d seen since dinner—settling over her face. “I guess I was asking you to do that, so let me amend my answer. Go be Detective Colton and do your job. And I promise to remember that I’m not ADA Whittaker right now, barreling through any and all red tape to get the answers I want.”
“There she is. The fighter we all know and love.” Troy headed for the door, satisfied they’d hit more even ground. “And I still promise to call tomorrow.”
It was only when he stepped through her front door, waiting on the other side until he heard the snick of the lock, that Troy realized the words he’d used to reassure her. One big one in particular. Love.
As he got into his car and started the ignition, it continued to linger in his thoughts, keeping him company on the drive across town toward home.
Evangeline walked back to the kitchen, surprised to realize Troy’s light scent still lingered in the air. Just as his kiss still lingered on her lips. The subtle hints of leather from his holster stood out, as did the remembrance of how warm his skin had felt through the material of his shirt beneath her fingers.
She’d kissed him.
The thought dazzled her as she put their now-clean dinner dishes back in the cabinet. Right there, in front of the sink. And it had been amazing. Yes, she’d been lonely when she’d headed out that night, but wonderfully enough, the kiss hadn’t been about loneliness. Or sadness. Or any sense that she was failing at life.
Oh no, this kiss was about passion and interest and mutual need. And for the first time in more months than she could describe, she felt something other than fear or gloom or disappointment.
The cabinet door slipped from her fingers, hitting the frame with a thud. It was only when she heard an answering noise, much harder, from the back of her condo, that something dark and cold ran down her spine.
Even as her mind whispered, warning her to calm down, Evangeline fought it. She knew what she’d heard. And while she’d felt the lock in the front door turn beneath her own fingers mere moments before, she hadn’t been anywhere near her back door.
As an owner on the bottom floor of the condo complex, she had two entrances to her home. The front door she normally used and a door that led to the grassy public area between buildings. Hadn’t she locked it earlier?
She remembered checking it, but had she actually turned the lock in the door? Felt the hard snap of the dead bolt beneath her fingers?
As that fear kicked in again, knocking her heart against her chest with heavy thumps, she fought for a deep breath. It was an odd night wrapping up a tiring and difficult stretch of weeks. That was all. It was summertime and people enjoyed the common area of the complex long into the evening, barbecuing, or it could be neighbors sitting around talking. Maybe someone tried the wrong door heading back to their own home.
Yet even as she tried to talk herself out of what she’d heard, Evangeline reached for the sharp kitchen scissors in the small caddy she kept near the stove. With the handle-end wrapped tightly in her fist, she left the kitchen and headed for her back door. Even from this distance, she couldn’t see any sign of entry. The door was closed firmly. She kept her gaze trained on the hallway and the small powder room that speared off near the back door.
Could someone be hiding in there?
Tightening her grip, Evangeline moved closer. Just shy of the bathroom she twisted so her free hand could swing around the doorframe and flip on the lights, even as her body remained physically protected by the wall.
Only no one was there as light flooded the small space.
The heavy thump of her heartbeat calmed slightly as she took in the area. The back door was closed and she could see from where she stood that the dead bolt was still thrown. No one was in the bathroom. There wasn’t any other place to hide on the back side of the condo. And Troy had been with her for the past hour, walking through the front of her home.
They’d have both heard if anyone had gotten by.
Satisfied it was one more weird occurrence in a night full of them, Evangeline rechecked the dead bolt for her own comfort and walked back to the kitchen, dropping the scissors back into their rightful place.
“Skittish much, Whittaker?”
The sound of her voice did little to comfort the tangling, jangling nerves that still twisted beneath her skin, but she was determined to ignore it.
What was it Troy had said? Very little couldn’t be helped by a bit of food and a good night’s sleep.
She’d had the burger and now it was time for rest.
The lovely image Troy had painted of his stepmother’s kind warmth and genuine caring kept her company as she walked into her bedroom. It was only as she hit the light switch and saw the book on her nightstand, propped up and facing her, that she screamed.
She had never purchased a travel book about the state of Michigan.
Nor had she left one in her room.