Читать книгу Single Father Sheriff - Carol Ericson - Страница 11
ОглавлениеHeat flashed across her cheeks and she dug her heels into the carpet to keep from launching herself at him and snatching the ribbon from his hand.
“Why are you pawing through my aunt’s possessions? You can’t wait for the yard sale?”
“Nice try, Kendall.” He shook the ribbon at her. “This is what scared you this afternoon, sent you running for the hills.”
“So what if it was?” She jutted her chin forward. “You’re a cop, not my therapist. I don’t have to reveal every facet of my life to you.”
“I’d at least appreciate the ones that are pertinent to my case.” He dropped the ribbon where it fluttered to the top of the cabinet.
“I didn’t know it was.”
“C’mon, Kendall, a pink ribbon like the one the kidnapper took from you that night? That’s why it freaked you out, isn’t it?”
She dropped her chin to her chest and studied his face through lowered lashes. “I’d just met you, so to speak. I felt foolish for taking off like that, for exposing my frailties to a stranger.”
He wedged his hands on the cabinet behind him. “I can understand that, but why didn’t you tell me about it tonight after you found the mannequin?”
“Not sure.” She crossed her arms over her chest, cupping her elbows. “Telling you later would be admitting I lied to you.”
“Look, Kendall.” He blew out a breath. “You’re right. You don’t owe me anything. You don’t even owe anything to those two grieving families.”
She sliced her hand through the air. “It’s not that I don’t want to help them. God knows I do, but it can’t be at the expense of my own mental health, especially if that help doesn’t do anything to find their children.”
“We don’t know that yet. Let’s put everything on the table.” He launched off the cabinet and took her by the shoulders. “Trust me. Just trust me. Am I that scary? Do I come across as judgmental? I’m not.”
She tilted her head back to look into his earnest blue eyes. Was it that important for him that he have her trust?
“You don’t. Not at all.” She ringed her fingers around his wrists, or at least as far as they would go. “I lied this afternoon because I didn’t want you to see how affected I was by the events in my past, and I didn’t think the ribbon had any meaning for the current case. I didn’t tell you about the ribbon after the mannequin because it would’ve exposed my earlier lie. Is that plain enough for you?”
“Why try to hide your feelings about the tragedy? Anyone would be traumatized.”
Her lips twisted into a smile. “Only the strong survive.”
His eyes flickered for a second as they darkened with pain.
Who didn’t trust whom here?
“You found the ribbon in the drawer of that cabinet. It can’t be the same one.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “That’s not a twenty-five-year-old ribbon.”
She stepped back from his realm. How did he get truths from her so easily? Who was the therapist here?
“I’ve been thinking about it all day. It could be the original one left in my hair, or another one of Kayla’s that my aunt found. If the ribbon hadn’t been exposed to the sun, it wouldn’t have faded. Or maybe my aunt had bought some new ribbons for some project, and this one happens to be pink.”
“Or the same person who left a child-sized mannequin in your truck bed, left the ribbon for you to find knowing the effect it would have on you.”
“Which brings us back to square one.” She massaged her temples. “Why would the kidnapper, or anyone else for that matter, want to needle me?”
“Not sure, but it’s on my list of things to find out.” He skimmed a hand over his short hair. “It’s late.”
Hooking a finger on the edge of the curtain, she peeked outside. “The rain stopped—for now.”
He touched her back. “Are you going to be okay?”
Turning, she curled her arm and flexed her biceps. “I’m tough. And, listen, I would’ve told you about the ribbon...eventually. Especially after finding the mannequin.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He grabbed the handle and then turned his head to the side, so that she could see his face in profile only. “You don’t have to be so tough, Kendall. I can share some of your burden. Let me.”
Then he slipped outside, and she watched him until the darkness swallowed him.
If she transferred some of her pain onto his shoulders, it was only fair that he transfer some of his onto hers.
Because Sheriff Cooper Sloane had pain to spare.
* * *
“STOP KNOCKING YOURSELF OUT.” Rebecca Geist, her Realtor, held out a card between two perfectly manicured nails. “I’ve used this cleaning crew before, and they’re professional and reasonably priced.”
“Thanks. I should’ve called them sooner.” Kendall shoved the card beneath the phone on the kitchen counter. “But I did manage to get Aunt Cass’s collections boxed up. I’m going to try to sell some of them at the estate sale, and I’m going to take the rest to one of those places that will list them online for a fee. I’ve already found a business in Port Angeles that will do that.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Rebecca held up the camera hanging around her neck. “If we want to get this place listed, I need to take photos now. I can always replace them with newer photos once you clear out of here.”
“This room, the kitchen, the master and the bathroom. Hold off on the other two rooms if you can until I get that cleaning crew out here.”
“I think that’ll be fine.” She winked. “You know those buyers from California. They’ll snap up anything in the low threes.”
“Three hundred thousand dollars? This dump?” Kendall waved her arms around the small living room.
Rebecca put a finger to her glossed mouth and swiveled her head from side to side as if she suspected a potential buyer was lurking in the corner. “This,” she said, spreading her arms, “is a charming cottage in the woods. Don’t forget, you’ve got an acre of land here, and ever since Evergreen planted its corporate headquarters in Timberline the housing market—if not the weather—has been heating up.”
“Okay, scratch that. It’s a bucolic hideaway, a nature buff’s paradise, a forest love nest.” She could even half imagine that last one with the carpet stripped away, refinished hardwood floors, a Native American rug before a crackling fire in the grate—and Coop Sloane, half-naked, lounging in front of it.
One corner of Kendall’s mouth curled up.
“That’s the spirit.” Rebecca nudged her side. “Of course, we will have to reveal the history of the house.”
Kendall snapped out of her daydream. “History? Like when it was built and any additions? I can assure you, there have been no additions to this house.”
“No, dear.” Rebecca had the camera to her face and was aiming it around the room. “The kidnapping.”
The daydream completely evaporated.
“Really? We have to reveal something that happened twenty-five years ago? It’s not like the house is haunted.” Her gaze darted around the room, bouncing over the cabinet with the pink ribbon stashed inside.
“Well, it was a crime scene, but I don’t think the negative will be too great.” Rebecca lowered the camera and chewed on her bottom lip. “Unless...”
“Unless what?”
“Unless the FBI can’t solve these two current kidnappings, or God forbid, there’s another. Then it might not just be your house, but the whole area that’s going to suffer.” Rebecca’s cheeks flushed beneath her heavy makeup. “And the families. Of course, the housing market is nothing next to the pain of the families.”
