Dangerous Reunion Page 3

  Yashi knew that. He drank the other stuff at work and in restaurants because no one made it his way, but he insisted the only good coffee in the world was his. In the time they were together, she’d come up with a dozen good uses for his brew—cleaning sludge from car engines had topped the list—but drinking wasn’t among them.

  And Morwenna knew. How long had they been together? Was it dating, a relationship, all good fun, friends with benefits or more? Did he love her? Did she love him? Did she deserve him?

  Yashi hoped so, because she certainly hadn’t.

  Morwenna gave her dark hair a quick rub with the second towel, then wrapped it around her before she sat down. No sooner had she settled in, when a tiny gray kitten appeared from nowhere, leaped into her lap, rested its paws on the chair arm and lifted a disdainful nose in Yashi’s direction before curling into a ball.

  “Ben’s got a cat,” Yashi said blankly. He’d registered official complaints against Bobcat practically every time he’d come to her apartment. The cat was possessive and always lying where Ben wanted to sit. He sharpened his claws on Ben’s holster, shed an immense amount of yellow hair on Ben’s uniform and preferred to sleep in the center of the bed—claws on Ben’s side, of course.

  “This is Oliver. He had to find a new home after his human went to jail for making meth.”

  “And Ben volunteered?”

  “Oh no. He lost to Sam and Daniel in Rock, Paper, Scissors.” Morwenna gave a boys-will-be-boys shrug before uncapping her water and taking a drink. She waited while Yashi did the same, then cautiously said, “So you know Ben.”

  Knew him. Had loved him. Tennyson, in her never-humble opinion, had been so off the mark when he’d written, “’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” She’d loved deeply, lost deeply and could live without the pain again.

  Not that falling in love with Ben had been a choice.

  Aware that Morwenna was waiting, Yashi gave the easiest answer. “I used to work in the DA’s office. I prosecuted some of his cases.”

  Let her think that was all there was between them. Nothing but business. Not that it mattered. Ben wasn’t the type a woman got insecure about. He was solid and steady and loyal. He was an emotional rock, and it had nothing to do with his height or the broad shoulders and granite muscles that went with it. He was a man who never strayed from his beliefs, who did the right thing not because he should but because it was who he was.

  “He’s a very good detective. They’re all very good.”

  A ghost of a smile quivered on Yashi’s lips. “I know.”

  “They’re the people I’d want looking if it was my family missing.”

  Eyes misting, she whispered, “I know.” They were dedicated. They did their best on every case. Will, Lolly and Theo deserved the very best.

  She was taking a drink when her cell phone rang. Cold water spilled over her chin and dripped onto her shirt. More splashed her legs as she dropped the bottle to dig the phone from her pocket. The screen identified Brit, and when she lifted the phone to her ear, she was greeted by her cousin’s hyped-up, high-pitched and breathless voice.

  “Yashi? What’s going on? Officer Bear called and told me don’t come home, and Mom and Dad aren’t answering their phones, and he said they’re not home. Where are they? Where are you? I’m at your house, but you’re not here. What’s happening?” The last words came out a wail, accompanied by the soothing sound of a male voice in the background. Her boyfriend, Jared.

  “Honey, I’m at Ben’s house.” Yashi needed less than a breath to choose a lie to tell—a partial one, at least—because no way was she breaking the news over the phone. “Sweetie, your house was broken into and—”

  “Oh God, are they all right? Mom? Dad? Are they hurt? What—who—” The shriek dropped to a frantic, fearful whisper. “Is Theo okay?”

  Dear God, I pray so.

  Without stopping for air, Brit went on. “I’m coming out there right now. I want to see—I want to talk to Officer Bear. I want—Jared, come on! We have to go! We have to—I have to—”

  “Brit, listen to me.” Yashi’s words were sharp, the only way to cut through the girl’s emotions to reach the rational part of her brain. “You still have the key to my house, right? Go on in and wait for me. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Brit?”

  The only answer was a thud. A moment later, Jared got on the phone. He identified himself, his sixteen-year-old voice quavering with fear and the effects of Brit’s drama and trauma. “Should I bring Brit home now? Officer—Detective Little Bear told her to wait until he called, and she’s called him, but he’s not answering.”

  Yashi got to her feet, repeating the instructions, feeling the brush as the towel fell to the floor. “I’ll be there as quick as I can. Just get her inside and—and let her cuddle with Bobcat for a while.” The cat usually managed to bring Brit back from the edge of hysteria to the-world-hasn’t-ended balance.

  The world hasn’t ended yet.

  Or maybe it had.

  She was halfway down the steps when she turned to Morwenna. “I don’t know if Ben has more questions, but—”

  “You have to go. Of course. I’ll tell him. He knows how to reach you.”

  The rain had become little more than a mist that dampened their faces as they hurried across the road. Yashi began patting her pockets for her keys, then remembered they were in her jacket. With a quiet word, Morwenna jogged ahead to the porch and brought the slicker back to her. Apparently stricken by impulse, she gave Yashi a quick, tight hug.

  “Have faith,” she said when she let go.

  Faith. Hope. Trust.

  Yashi was feeling pretty low on all three at the moment.

  Chapter 2

  Ben stood in the doorway of Brit’s bedroom. It was on the second floor, at the back of the house and had a view of a lot of wet, densely grown trees. There was no sign of another house even though he knew Kenneth Brown’s house was a short distance to the southeast and Marlon Pickering’s was about the same distance to the southwest.

  Could either of them be involved with this?

  Kenneth Brown was a mean SOB who was quick to anger and married to a woman just as mean. Except for regular smackdowns with her family—every reunion and holiday turned into a disturbance call—they kept to themselves.

  Marlon Pickering was Native American, belonging, like Ben, to the Muscogee Creek Nation. He was a successful artist, doing watercolors that depicted their ancestors’ lives after their forced removal from the southern states to Indian Territory nearly two hundred years ago. He and his wife, recognized for her pottery and basket weaving, were active in tribal affairs, the art world, their family and community. Last Ben had heard, they were raising two grandchildren along with the youngest of their four kids.

  Morwenna came around the corner, laying her hand on his shoulder. “I said I’d tell you—Ooh, pretty room.”

  He glanced at the sage-green walls, the pale gray trim, the thin white curtains, then looked at her, one brow lifted. “Your room is painted in primary colors.”

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate something different. Yashi got a call from Brit. She’s going to her house to talk to her. You should answer your phone when a distraught family member calls.”

  Yeah, he should have, but Brit was melodramatic by nature. He’d watched her do a complete meltdown over the most insignificant things. Who knew what her response would be to hearing her family had been attacked and kidnapped?

  And now, he admitted with both satisfaction and chagrin, he didn’t have to tell her because Yashi would do it for him. It wasn’t fair, but life so often wasn’t.

  Seeing Yashi this morning, beautiful and golden and vulnerable, had reminded him of that.

  “I told her you would find her when you were ready to interview Brit. I assume you’re going to?”

&
nbsp; Could he put it off on someone else without feeling like an ass? Like he’d somehow let down the Muellers, the department, even himself? The other officers wouldn’t hold it against him. They all had their strengths and weaknesses; one picked up the slack for the others.

  But the Muellers were his friends. He’d known Brit since she was five. He’d held Theo when he was a baby, had given him a finger to hold on to when he was learning to walk, perched Brit on his shoulders so she didn’t miss a thing at the Christmas parades. They were in danger, and he needed to help them.

  Even Yashi.

  He sighed heavily. “Yes, I’m going to. I’m going now.”

  He was down the stairs and halfway to the door when Sam stepped out of the living room. “Did I hear you say you’re going to interview Brit?”

  Ben glanced up the stairs, judging the distance from where Sam stood to where he’d been talking to Morwenna, and gave a shake of his head. “Fatherhood has sharpened your hearing.”

  Sam’s look was wry. “Who knew a baby not much bigger than a football could bellow like a herd of cows at feeding time? As long as Sameen’s making noise, it’s okay. It’s when she gets quiet that I start to worry.”

  “She’s three months old. You think she’s gonna crawl out of her crib and make a run for it?”

  “Nah. That’s what the little Harper’s going to do.”

  Daniel turned away from his conversation with a crime scene guy long enough to scowl. His wife, Natasha, had been engaged four times, earning the nickname Runaway Bride, before she’d finally married him last fall. Now, two weeks past her due date, running anywhere other than the hospital was the last thing on her mind.

  Sam returned to the subject. “Stay with Brit until we figure out what to do with her. Don’t forget to collect her cell. Oh, and we need her prints.”

  Ben didn’t resent the reminders, though he didn’t need them, either. He had a list of things to do running in his head: interview Brit; get the names and contact info of every friend and enemy she had; find out everything about her current boyfriend, her ex-boyfriends, any wannabe boyfriends. Track her movements for the past days or weeks or months; listen to her voice mails; read her texts, emails, instant messages; scour her social media; study every single photograph on her cell.

  Basically, he intended to go through her life with a fine-toothed comb, and then through the lives of her family and friends. He intended to keep her safe, to get her parents and brother back, to make their lives right again.

  And he intended to do it all without putting himself in danger with Yashi again. Daniel had forgiven his commitment-shy wife for breaking his heart and started over new, but Ben didn’t have that in him. Given the nature of his job, there were a lot of people he couldn’t trust in his life, but damned if he would invite one who’d proven herself so right back in.

  After a stop at home to change into dry clothes and pick up his badge and weapon, Ben drove into town, automatically heading for the older neighborhood where Yashi rented a high-ceilinged apartment in a 1940s-era house. Her bedroom windows overlooked a detached garage so overgrown with wisteria and honeysuckle that the doors no longer opened, and she’d sworn the place was worth every penny just for the view and the fragrance.

  He pulled to the curb in front of the house and gazed at the empty spot where her yellow car had always sat. She wouldn’t have taken Brit anywhere. She’d understood the message spray-painted on the door as well as he had. Her cousin was in danger, and Yashi would protect her like a mama bear.

  Annoyed he hadn’t considered the possibility of her moving to a new place sometime in the last five years, he called the station and asked one of the dispatchers on duty to run her driver’s license.

  “Don’t need to. Her office is on the new highway, a couple miles past the fire station, and she lives behind it. Cute place. My brother bartered some work on it in exchange for her help when him and his wife adopted their little girl.”

  Ben thanked him and headed that way. Not many lawyers in Cedar Creek got rich. At least in the DA’s office, Yashi’s office space and staff had been supplied by the county. Now that she had to cover those expenses, it made sense to combine the work space with the living space if she could.

  He found the office easily enough, a nondescript building with large plate-glass windows that were tinted against the afternoon sun. The parking lot was wide enough for four spaces, none of them occupied this morning. But a narrow lane led around the south end of the building, reminding him the dispatcher had said she lived behind the office, not in the back of it as Ben had assumed.

  He didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t what he got. Instead of a paved lot, there was a large square of lush grass, and in the center was a Victorian-style playhouse. It was white with trim and curls in very pale shades of blue and green, and a matching set of wood lawn furniture sat beneath a canvas sail in the same shades. The Bug occupied one-half of a concrete parking pad, and shrubs, flowers and a white picket fence edged the three sides of the yard.

  Ben didn’t often find himself taken by surprise, but now he was. He climbed out of the truck that dwarfed Yashi’s car and followed a path of stepping-stones to the tiny front porch. He was lifting his hand to knock on the pale blue door when it swung open and Brit flung herself into his arms.

  “Officer Bear, have you found them yet? Are they okay?” Her voice came muffled from somewhere below, but the misery and fear relayed clearly.

  He patted her back. “Not yet, Brit. Do you feel okay to talk to me?”

  “Yes.” But her muscles tightened and she burrowed a little harder against him.

  He walked inside without releasing her, then closed the door behind them. His head was literally a few hairsbreadth from touching the ceiling, and he could easily reach both outside walls if he tried.

  Yashi stood a few feet away, arms hugging her middle. She’d changed into dry clothes, too, another pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Her feet were bare. Their position, one foot resting on top of the other, brought back the earlier image of vulnerability. She looked in need of comforting, too, and left out. She’d told him once that she’d spent most of her life being left out. No big deal. She could handle it.

  It had broken his heart.

  For just a moment, he let himself wish things had turned out differently between them, the way they were supposed to have been. He’d wanted what Sam and Mila had, what Daniel and Natasha and Quint and JJ had. He’d never meant to be thirty-six and single, with the only women in his life family, coworkers and occasional relationships that were doomed to end before they started.

  Sometimes life sucked.

  * * *

  “Sweetie, why don’t you go wash your face and maybe change into some of my clothes?” Yashi waited until Brit let go of Ben and ran up the stairs to the loft before finally releasing her hold on herself and gesturing toward the living room chairs. She didn’t have a couch—the window seat served that purpose—but there were two large comfy chairs that each unfolded into a twin-size bed. They were quite possibly the only furniture in the house that would fit Ben comfortably.

  Along with her bed.

  He walked to the nearest chair, where Bobcat stretched then gave Ben a bored look that ended in a yawn and an indelicate display of licking.

  “He still holds me in high regard,” Ben said as he moved to the other chair.

  Yashi tried to smile but couldn’t. She lifted the cat and sat in his spot. As soon as she settled him beside her, he jumped up and gracefully leaped from one perch on the wall to the next until he reached the loft. “He’s a cat,” she said, as if that explained everything.

  She wished it was that easy in human life.

  “While we waited, I asked Brit to write down a timeline for last night,” she said, nodding to a notebook on the coffee table. “She also made a list of her friends and their phone numbers, and the use
rnames and passwords for her social media accounts.”

  He picked up the notebook, glanced at each page. Brit’s handwriting was like her, spirited and energetic. Yashi tried to remember if she’d scrolled so many loops and frills with a pen, but her teen years seemed so very long ago.

  Ben’s dark gaze lifted from the timeline. “She climbed out the second-floor window?”

  Yashi parroted the response her cousin had given her. “She couldn’t very well sneak down the stairs and out the door with her family right there in the living room.”

  “She’s so girly. I didn’t know she had it in her.”

  “Young love.” This time she managed a tiny smile. “Jared’s parents were out of town. It was their first chance to do it somewhere other than the back seat of his car.” As a responsible adult, she should be worried and cautioning, but she’d been fifteen when she’d lost her virginity. She remembered what it was like to be young, discovering the world as well as herself, and the earnestness of the boy named Caleb who swore he would love her forever.

  That time, forever had lasted seven months and two weeks. He’d dumped her when he’d gotten the chance to take a cheerleader to the prom.

  Yashi didn’t have a very good track record with forever.

  Ben flipped back to the first page in the notebook. “She told me she left a note on her pillow.”

  “I did. It’s in there.” Brit came down the stairs, wearing a pair of black spandex shorts and a T-shirt that swallowed her. It was faded brown, hung from her shoulder and draped so that it was difficult to see the logo: an outline of a buffalo with Oklahoma written across it. It was an ancient shirt, one that had already outlived its useful years before Yashi had worn it home from Ben’s house one early dawn long ago.

  Brit passed on to the bathroom in the back corner of the house, and a moment later, the faint sound of water drifted out.