It had to be Malachi.
Amanda was lying awake, so far from sleep she knew it was useless to even try. She’d been lying in the Foxworths’ guest room for a couple of hours, wrestling with her thoughts. She couldn’t quite believe someone wanted her dead, but if she had to accept that possibility, her first thought was him.
The evidence made him look like a killer. You made him look like a monster.
She hadn’t even noticed Adam had been in the courtroom that day. She had been so focused on what she had to do that for all she knew there could have been only two people in that room, herself and the cold-blooded killer who had shot her father.
She felt a flicker of…something, that Adam had thought she’d done so well. Which made no sense, because the last person whose opinion mattered to her was Adam Kirk.
A light tap came on the door and she sat upright. Apparently, the Foxworths had meant what they’d said, that they’d be checking on her regularly. “I’m fine,” she called out.
The door swung open, enough for her to see who it was.
Adam.
She felt a flush of heat that had her suddenly checking to make sure she wasn’t revealing too much in the T-shirt Hayley had loaned her to sleep in. Instinctively, she pulled the covers up around her, then regretted the move. She didn’t want him thinking…whatever a guy might think at that reaction.
“What do you want?” It came out sharper than she’d intended. Only then, when he slipped past Adam, did she notice Cutter was with him. The dog came into the room and walked over to the bed.
“I’m just doing the first check,” Adam said, his voice inflectionless. “Don’t worry, you’ll get Hayley next. Then Quinn. That way nobody has to get up every two hours.”
She stared at him. “Except me, apparently,” she snapped.
He looked the tiniest bit sheepish. “Well, you are the one we’re worried about.”
Cutter whined softly, and she automatically reached out to pet the dog’s head. And immediately felt calmer. Amazing. Weird, but amazing.
“I’m fine. You can go back to—” She stopped suddenly, her brow furrowing. “Why are you even still here? I thought you were leaving, going back to the other side so you could get an early start in the morning?”
“Cutter thought otherwise.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Long story, which would require you listening to me far more than you want to.”
“That boat’s already sailed,” she pointed out.
His expression didn’t change. “I know.” Then, more briskly, “Have you slept at all?”
“A little,” she fibbed.
“You know where you are?”
“Of course I do. And if I didn’t you would have given it away mentioning Hayley and Quinn.”
He sighed. “Yeah. Well, not my forte.”
“What is, these days?” She stroked Cutter’s head again. “Talking to dogs, apparently?”
“I could do worse,” he said, and she thought the tiniest edge had crept into his voice. Then, even more briskly, “You remember why we’re doing this?”
“Of course.”
“Tell me.”
“I hit my head.”
“Remember what day it is? No checking your phone.”
“Tuesday by now, no doubt.”
“All right.” He started to back away.
“Aren’t you supposed to ask if I remember who I am?” It just figured he’d do a half-assed job at this.
“I don’t have to. It’s obvious you know.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Because you remember how much you hate me.”
And then he was gone, closing the door quietly behind him. She stared after him, feeling oddly chilled by his words. She wondered why. It wasn’t like it wasn’t the truth.
He’d left Cutter with her. She could see the dog looking at her by the faint reflection of what light there was in his dark eyes. He put one paw up on the bed, politely.
“Are you allowed?” she asked.
He gave an almost indignant sound that nearly made her laugh. “All right, then.”
And the moment the animal jumped up and plopped beside her, she was able to think more clearly. Even if she still didn’t understand why Adam’s words, the look in his eyes, had made her so unsettled. Over the last five years she’d never questioned her feelings about this man. She’d always solidly placed the biggest chunk of blame after the shooter himself squarely on Adam Kirk’s shoulders. So why on earth would the knowledge that so did he change anything? Shouldn’t she be pleased, or at the least satisfied that he knew his own culpability?
She vaguely remembered when, in the depth of her grief, a few of her father’s colleagues had tried to defend him, saying any one of them might have done the same in that situation. She hadn’t wanted to hear it.
She still didn’t. Did she?
She gave herself an inward shake. Cutter nudged her slightly, and she began to pet him again. If she was going to be lying sleepless thinking about anything, it should be what had happened today—yesterday—not Adam Kirk.
But he was the one who pulled me out of the car. The burning car, at the time.
She pushed away the reminder, focused on the puzzle. Although she supposed it was possible Trevor Malachi had orchestrated this from the state prison—she’d heard of such things—she couldn’t see what it would gain him. Adam had been right about that, at least. He wasn’t eligible for parole, so it wasn’t like there were parole hearings that she attended to stop them from releasing him. She’d been spared that, at least.
But she hadn’t encountered anyone else in these five years, or in her entire life for that matter, that seemed capable of this kind of thinking and plotting. And maybe Malachi simply wanted revenge, maybe locked away as he was, that was all he could do.
It almost had to be. Because the other theory made no sense. It couldn’t be a result of her contacting anyone about her father’s secret file; she’d called only friends of her father’s, people who would never, ever hurt her.
She didn’t even realize she’d fallen asleep until Hayley gently woke her, and she managed to get through the litany of questions to prove she was aware. Asked if Cutter was bothering her, she immediately said no, half joking that he was probably the only reason she’d slept. So Hayley left him with her.
Since there was none of the high emotion there had been with Adam, she was able to go back to sleep until Quinn arrived for the next check at 6:00 a.m. She sleepily sat up, but he told her to go back to sleep until she woke up hungry, but this time he collected the dog.
That wake-up turned out to be a couple of hours later, right on time to show she was fine yet again. And not only was she hungry, the smell of fresh coffee was a lure she couldn’t resist. She got up and took a quick shower, glad the Foxworth amenities ran to an en suite bathroom in the guest room. She looked in the mirror and grimaced, but did what she could with what she had on hand, most of which had been rescued by Adam.
She found the clothes she’d been wearing yesterday folded neatly on the foot of the bed when she came out, and realized Hayley must have taken them last night and washed them. Or maybe Quinn; the man certainly didn’t seem to think he was above such tasks. She dressed quickly, then stepped out of the room. The first thing she noticed as she went into the living room was the neatly folded blanket on the end of the couch, topped by a pillow. Adam had slept on the couch?
She glanced toward the kitchen, where she could hear lowered voices. She walked that way. Adam and Quinn were there, talking quietly. She got close enough to hear just as Quinn said something about sugar. Adam quickly switched his coffee mug to his right hand and reached for the small bowl with his left, handed it to Quinn, then switched the mug back to his left hand and took a sip of coffee. It seemed odd to her, but he’d done it with the ease of long practice.
“How much bend do you have?” Quinn asked.
Bend? What did that mean?
Adam shrugged. “About a hundred degrees.”
“Must make things interesting, back home.”
“Driving a tractor is an adventure,” Adam said with a wry expression.
“But you do it,” Quinn said quietly.
“Have to,” Adam answered. “But I went to an automatic in the truck. Save the energy for work.”
“Come on in, Amanda,” Quinn said. “Coffee’s still hot.”
He had never even looked her way, yet he had known she was there. Adam glanced at her now, turned and left the kitchen without a word.
Quinn got two more mugs out of a cupboard, and handed one to her. “Hayley’ll be in for hers any moment now,” he said with a smile and a nod at the second mug.
“Thanks,” she said as he filled her mug, then the other. She waited as he put two spoons of sugar in Hayley’s, then reached for the bowl herself. Which reminded her.
“What did you mean by bend?” she asked.
Quinn put the spoon in the dishwasher before he looked at her and said, “Just wondering how much function he has.” He held up his own arm and bent it a bit past a right angle. “A stop at a hundred degrees is pretty limiting.”
A stop? Was he saying Adam couldn’t bend his arm? She stared at him. “A… I don’t…”
Quinn gave her a puzzled look. “Pretty hard joint to put back together, the elbow. I’d go for the replacement myself, but after all those surgeries I don’t blame him for wanting to avoid the knife for a while.”
“Elbow?” she said, rather faintly. “Surgeries?”
Quinn drew back slightly. Understanding was dawning in his eyes. “Amanda, that bullet shattered his elbow. He’s lucky he can move it at all.”
“I…didn’t know.” Suddenly, the memory of that half salute he’d given at her father’s graveside shot through her mind. Along with what she’d thought at the time. It had never occurred to her that his hand had only gone halfway because that’s all he could do.
“What, exactly, did you think?” Quinn asked.
“I thought… I only heard he was shot in the arm.”
Quinn drew in an audible breath. “And so would have been physically able to shoot back.”
She nodded, starting to feel faintly nauseous.
“You never watched the store video, did you?” he asked softly.
“I tried, once. But I knew what was coming, and I couldn’t.”
“If you had, you’d have seen Adam go crashing back right through the store window. Cut him up pretty good, too. But he still got up, and fought to get to his weapon with his left hand.”
“I…didn’t know.”
“Who do you think held Malachi for the backup units after I passed out? And probably saved my life, slowing down the bleeding?”
She drew in a deep breath of her own. “I’m beginning to realize I wasn’t thinking much at all.”
“And my pain was nothing compared to having a major joint shattered. He held on until he passed out standing up. One of the medics had to catch him. It’s amazing he was on his feet at all.” He took a sip of coffee before going on. “Too bad he couldn’t come back. They lost two good cops that night.”
“You must be talking about Adam.” Hayley’s voice came from behind her. She patted Amanda on the arm as she passed, Cutter at her heels. The dog nudged Amanda’s hand as if reassuring himself she was all right. Then, oddly, he sat at her feet, as if he’d sensed her inner turmoil.
Hayley reached for the coffee Quinn had prepared, giving him a loving look as she did so. “It’s still sad, him having his lifelong dream taken away.”
Amanda knew she was still staring, but that nausea was expanding. “Taken away?”
Hayley gave her the same sort of puzzled look Quinn had. It was Quinn who answered her. “I’m sure they didn’t want to retire him, but not much choice with his arm in that condition.”
Amanda set down her mug rather sharply. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come. She felt as if the ground under her feet had shifted, or worse, turned to slipping, sliding sand. Cutter whined, and the worried sound was the impetus for her to move.
She whirled and ran back to the guest room, where she sank down on the edge of the bed, shaking. The dog had followed her and leaned against her. She felt the warm comfort, but this time it wasn’t quite enough.
For five years she had hated Adam Kirk. For not doing what he should have when her father had been shot. And for quitting.
He hadn’t just been shot in the arm, some flesh wound as she’d always thought. The very thing the function of that arm hinged—literally—on was destroyed.
He hadn’t been physically able to do what she thought he should have.
And he hadn’t quit, he’d been forced out, medically retired. Unable to come back even if he had wanted to.
Everything she had thought about him for the last five years was wrong.
He’s a good man. I trust him completely.
Amanda lowered her face into her hands, right now hating herself more than she had ever hated Adam Kirk.