Читать книгу Conflicting Evidence - Lena Diaz - Страница 15

It was bad enough that crime scene investigators were combing through every inch of Peyton’s family home, having obtained a search warrant based on Brian being inside earlier today. What was even more humiliating was standing in her own bedroom while a police woman rifled through the bag that Peyton had just packed.

Peyton crossed her arms, frowning at the woman’s profile as she wadded up shirts and pants that Peyton had painstakingly rolled to avoid wrinkles. The woman pulled out yet another pair of Peyton’s underwear, letting the red thong dangle in the air. What did she think? That Peyton was going to smuggle a gun in her undies and attack Colin in his sleep?

“I don’t think they’re your size,” she snapped, unable to put up with the farce any longer.

Unruffled, the officer smiled politely, underwear still suspended in the air. “I’m just doing my job, Miss Sterling.”

“Is there a problem in here?” Colin stepped into the room.

Peyton snatched the thong and tossed it into the overnight bag. “Not at all. Officer...”

“Simmons,” the policewoman supplied, sounding infuriatingly amused.

“Right. Officer Simmons was just complimenting me on my fabric choices. Isn’t that right?”

Simmons rolled her eyes. “You have a nice evening, ma’am.” She stepped past Peyton, nodding at Colin before exiting the room.

“Did I miss something?” Colin asked.

She straightened the contents of the bag as best she could without dumping everything out and starting over. “I’m fairly certain that Officer Simmons was wrinkling my clothes and going as slowly as humanly possible just because—”

“Because you knocked a gun out of a marshal’s hand and let a suspected cop killer get away?”

She stood frozen, his words sinking in. Shame made her face heat. “You’re right. I’m so used to being on the defensive about Brian being innocent that I didn’t look at it from her perspective.”

He stepped to the bed and zipped her bag closed, then hefted it in his hand. “Maybe she was suspicious because you’ve packed half your bedroom in here. I bet this would require extra baggage fees at the airport.”

“It’s not that heavy. I know I packed more than I need for one night. But I always worry that I’ll want something else after I’ve left the house.”

“It’s a good thing you did. I don’t expect you’ll be able to come back here for several days.” He motioned toward the doorway. “Let’s go.”

“I can carry my own...wait. What do you mean several days? I have to do laundry, clean the house, work on the store’s books, and a hundred other things. I can’t put my life on hold.”

“Why not? Think of it as a vacation. Don’t worry about anything except helping me figure out where your brother might be hiding.”

“I don’t know what you were expecting but I can’t ignore my responsibilities. I have to be back at the store Sunday and Monday. Those are Joan’s days off. Melissa can’t run the store by herself. This is the busy summer tourist season. Besides, my customers expect fresh baked goods Sunday through Friday. If I don’t have new product in the display cases, I lose business. I’m still operating in the red, struggling to make this work as it is.”

“If money’s your worry, I can—”

“No. We’ve already had that conversation. I appreciate your generous offer, truly. But come early Sunday morning, I need to be in my own kitchen baking. Then I’m going to the shop.”

He set the bag back on the bed. “Unless your brother and the other escapees are either caught or known to be in an area far from here by Sunday, you’re not coming back. And you definitely aren’t going into town.”

“Colin—”

“Your brother showed up here once already. Odds are, he’ll try again. The reports my fellow marshals have been sharing with me indicate that all four men were spotted traveling together at their last verified sighting. One of them is a convicted murderer with ties to gangs. Until I know it’s safe, you aren’t coming back here. Period.”

Her throat went dry. Her brother was traveling with a convicted murderer? Brian wasn’t exactly street-smart. Even after years in prison, he still seemed like a scared, naive kid every time she visited him.

Please be careful. Don’t get yourself killed, Brian.

Since Colin was watching her, she forced a smile. “When you put it that way, I understand your concerns. I’ll need to check whether Joan and Melissa can take on additional shifts for a few days.” Not that she could afford the extra pay. And she didn’t know if her employees could change their schedules last minute. “Since my alibi was verified, it’s okay to call them, right?”

“Of course. Tomorrow.”

“Right.” The dark glass of her bedroom window clearly showed it was too late to call anyone tonight. “I’ll need to grab my baking supplies and take them to your place so I can bake things for the shop. I can ask Joan to come pick them up. Is that okay? Me using your kitchen?”

“You’re welcome to use my kitchen. But let’s head over there first and see if I already have what you need instead of hauling half your things over there.”

“Why can’t we just grab my stuff while we’re still here?”

He blew out a breath. “Because the crime scene unit is still collecting evidence. Allowing you to take clothes and toiletries is one thing. Hauling out pots and pans and who knows what else is completely different.” He motioned her toward the hallway and hefted her bag again.

The warrant. It all came down to that. She shook her head and headed down the hallway, Colin’s boots echoing against the hardwood behind her. Just inside the family room, she had to stop to let a tech pass by with a laptop in a clear plastic bag.

“Hey, wait. That’s mine. My business records are on that computer. I’ll need that to work on invoices tomorrow.” She reached for the bag. Colin pulled her against his side, nodding at the other man to continue out the propped-open front door.

“What are you doing?” She shook his arm off her shoulders.

“Keeping you from getting arrested for interfering with the execution of a search warrant. Come on. We need to get out of here.”

She mumbled beneath her breath just what she thought of the search warrant but dutifully started toward the front door. When she saw Officer Simmons lounging on her couch like a plant taking root, she stopped again. “Shouldn’t you be rifling through my underwear drawer or something?”

Simmons’s eyes widened.

Colin coughed, then cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he told Simmons.

“What are you apologizing to her for? Why is she—”

He took a firm grip on her arm and steered her out of the house, not slowing down until they were standing beside the open passenger door of his ridiculously tall pickup. White vans surrounded them, several parked right on the pitiful patch of weeds and dirt that used to be her mama’s front lawn.

She gasped when another tech passed her carrying a precious family photo album. “Hey! Give that back. What are you doing with—oh!”

Colin lifted her up and deposited her onto the passenger seat and then reached for the seat belt as if she was a toddler. She snatched it from him and clicked it into place.

“I can fasten my own seat belt. And I could have climbed up into this monster truck of yours without help.”

“No. You couldn’t. You’re so short you could pass for a hobbit.”

She gasped in outrage.

He shut the door with more force than was necessary.

She crossed her arms, jaw clenched as she watched the vultures hauling out more of her things. A few seconds later, Colin hopped up on the driver’s seat without a bit of trouble, making her resent him for his long legs. He tossed her bag onto the bench seat between them and sat there, as if waiting for something.

She clenched her jaw tighter, determined not to say another word.

Thunder rumbled overhead. In the distance, a flash of lightning lit up the sky for a few brief seconds. Yet another summer storm was moving into the area.

“I hope the rain turns the road into a river and those stupid vans slide into a ditch,” she grumbled.

“There it is.” He sounded almost cheerful as he started the engine. “Now we can go.”

She crossed her arms. “You think you know me so well.”

The almost smile that had accompanied his announcement faded and once again the sullen stranger took his place. “No. I don’t think I know you at all. Not anymore, if I ever did.”

His words were like a punch in the gut, reminding her of just how much water had passed beneath the bridge since they’d last been together.

He backed out of the driveway, the wheels kicking up gravel when he headed up the road.

Up.

Not down.

Unfamiliar terrain passed by her window, what little she could see in the moonlight. When she’d lived here before, this road had dead-ended just past her house. She hadn’t realized since coming back that it continued around the mountain.

“Is this a shortcut?” she asked.

“No.” He rounded a curve, the grade getting steeper as they continued higher.

“Colin, where...” White wood fencing appeared off to their left, illuminated by spotlights and marching across the fields as far as she could see. Another curve revealed even more landscape lights, on either side of a long, paved driveway. And at the end sat a huge white two-story farmhouse with an enormous wraparound porch, complete with a porch swing. She smiled sadly at the swing. She’d always wanted one but never had one growing up. Her dad had said their porch was too small.

“Beautiful house. Adore the swing,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Is this where we’re going?”

He nodded.

“Who lives there? Another police officer? You’re going to have someone else ask me questions about Brian?”

He shook his head and turned up the drive. When they reached the garage, he pressed a button in the roof of his truck and the door began to rise.

“This is your house?”

“I built it a handful of years ago.”

He pulled into the three-car garage. An expensive-looking black sports car of some type was parked two spaces away.

“I thought you had a chalet on Skyline Drive?”

He shot her a surprised glance. “I used to. How did you know about the chalet? I bought it a year after you left.” He cut the engine.

She shrugged, unwilling to admit that she’d ruthlessly grilled an old friend for information about Colin after being forced to move to Memphis. “One of dad’s clients or mom’s old church friends probably mentioned it on the phone after we first left. But I never knew you built a new home a few miles up the road from mine. Why did you? Why here?”

He hesitated. “The land was available, the area familiar. No neighbors to worry about.”

“And you just happened to build a white two-story farmhouse surrounded by acres of white fencing? With a porch swing? Like we talked about building together one day?”

His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. “I’ve always liked this style of home. Don’t read anything into it.”

She jerked back, and hated that she had. He’d hurt her, again, and she seemed helpless to hide it every time one of his barbs hit the bullseye.

His expression softened with regret. “Peyton—”

“I’ll get the door myself this time.” She grabbed her purse and overnight bag and hopped out of the truck before he could get out and help her. She stumbled but considered it a victory that she didn’t do a face-plant on the pristine gray-painted floor of the garage. In comparison, her garage had cracks and oil stains all over the place from her constantly leaking SUV. She’d be afraid to park her car in something this clean.

Both of them were silent as he led the way into the house.

Similar to her home, the garage led into a laundry/mudroom. But that was where the similarities ended. They walked down a wide back hall with several doors, all closed. A cased opening led them toward the front of the house, around a concrete-and-metal staircase into a massive vaulted family room. They finally stopped in the kitchen in the back-left corner of the house.

Her mouth dropped open. She nearly drooled. What she’d considered to be a high-end redesign of her own kitchen seemed like a joke compared to Colin’s. It was completely open to the main room with a massive island the only separation. Four saddle-style bar stools covered in black leather with matching black iron legs were snugged up beneath the overhang of the island on the side facing the family room. There wasn’t a table and chairs anywhere that she saw. And she hadn’t seen a dining room on their quick trip through the house. She wondered if he ate all his meals at the island or off trays in front of the television like she tended to do.

The ceilings soared up two stories high with skylights that allowed a breathtaking view of the stars. During the day, it would be awash with sunlight. Just like they’d imagined when they’d talked about their future together and the house where they one day hoped to live.

He opened a door and flipped on the light switch. “I wanted to show you the pantry since you were worried about baking supplies. My mom insists on keeping it stocked for when she comes over for family gatherings. She enjoys baking too, like you and your mom. I imagine most of what you need is in here.”

She ducked inside the enormous walk-in that was larger than her bedroom back home. Flour, sugar, spices of every kind lined one side, a much better variety than she had in her own pantry. It was a baker’s dream. Even if her business started booming, she could never afford something like this. She stepped back, feeling like the poor relation. Which was odd, considering that the McKenzie wealth had never bothered her in the past. Now it seemed like a looming barrier between them.

“Nice. Really nice. I’ll be sure to reimburse you for any ingredients I use.”

“That’s not necessa—”

“I’ll pay you back or I can’t do my baking here. And I really need to have product ready Sunday morning.”

His jaw tightened but he didn’t argue. “Are you hungry? And don’t tell me you won’t eat my groceries. You’re my guest. I insist.”

Guest. What a sad, lonely word. At eighteen, she and Colin had been ready to take on the world together. She’d expected that by twenty-eight she’d be working alongside him, fighting for justice. Coming home every night to a couple of kids, preferably boys with their father’s deep blue eyes and blue-black hair. Every night, she’d fall into his arms in the king-size bed and make love until dawn.

“Thanks.” Her voice came out barely a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I couldn’t eat anything right now. Actually, I’m kind of exhausted. It’s been a rough day all around.”

He studied her a moment, as if he wanted to say something. But then he turned and led her back into the family room. He didn’t stop until they reached the stairs on the far right side. “The guest bedrooms are upstairs. Pick whichever one you like.”

She admired the industrial black metal handrail, smoothed her fingers over the iron cables. Modern farmhouse. A little more masculine and contemporary than she’d have wanted. But gorgeous, just the same. Seeing their dream brought to life—without her—somehow hurt worse than if their dream had never been realized.

“It’s beautiful, Colin. Your home is...perfect.” She smiled wistfully. “I don’t suppose you have a horse barn out back with a palomino mare?”

He shook his head, a faraway look in his eyes. Was he remembering all the times they’d ridden trail ponies through the foothills? Or taken turns on the palomino her father got her for her sixteenth birthday? The same horse she’d had to sell when Brian was arrested and they scraped for every penny to pay for his defense.

“I’ve got a workshop out back, that’s it. You were the one crazy about horses when we were young. Not me.”

Her hand tightened on the railing. “I see.” She took a deep breath, then another, struggling against the urge to cry. She’d rather die than let loose with another onslaught of tears in front of him when he was being so cold.

“Make yourself at home.” His voice sounded strained. “I’m going to bed.” He opened a door to the right of the stairs, a few feet from the main entrance to the house.

He needn’t have bothered shutting the door behind him. He’d already shut her out just fine without one.