Hard Silence (15 page)

He carried lunch through the stable and back to her darkroom. Since the red light over the door was glowing, he knocked and waited. And waited.

The horses came to the stable door, curious about their visitor. But Abby didn’t answer.

“Abby?” he called out and knocked again.

The light went off, and the door eased open. Abby peeked around it, blinking in the sunlight.

He held up lunch. “Wanna eat? I picked up a veggie burger at Herb’s.”

She stared at him, one eyebrow arched. God, she could say more with one expression than most women could say in thirty minutes.

“I can’t eat both of them, and you do still owe me a meal,” he teased. When she remained unmoved, he tried again. “You have to eat.”

Nodding, she left the room and locked the door behind her. “How is your. Morning?”

“Good,” he said as he fell into step beside her. “I went to Hastings and met with the Idaho State Police about their lab. They’re rebuilding it and they want recommendations for equipment and procedures.”

She unlocked her front door and stood aside, smiling.

“Hey!” he laughed, “my hands are full.”

“You. Enjoyed. The lab?” she asked.

“I did.” Jeff walked in behind her and set the lunch on the table. “They’re a nice group of people, and I always like the science. The fries are probably cold. I had to make a stop on my way home.”

Home.
He cleared his throat. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a word. He was used to making his home wherever he hung his hat, and his hat was here. Well, it was up the hill where he should be.

Abby dragged a cast-iron skillet from the cabinet and put it on the stove, heating it while she retrieved seasonings. “We can. Fix it. The. Parmesan. Cheese is in the fridge.”

He dumped the fries into the pan, and went to the fridge for condiments. Juggling cheese, ranch dressing, and ketchup, he frowned at a covered bowl. “Is that chocolate gravy?”

“Yes. I made it. For Evan.”

“It’s been years since I had it.”

“Profiling doesn’t seem science-based,” she said as the fries hissed and popped on the stove. “It seems more predictive than predictable.”

“It is.” He worked next to her, getting plates and napkins. “That’s why the lab is a refuge. But both are puzzles with solutions. You just have to connect the dots.”

Once the fries were crisp, they sat at the table and ate them from the skillet, shaking them to cool them off while they juggled their burgers.

“I brought a baseball sign-up for Evan,” Jeff muttered around a bite, “and I bought the equipment he’ll need. I know he hasn’t played before, but I’ll work with him a little bit.” He grinned. “I bought you a glove, too. We’ll need an outfielder.”

“Thank you,” she said as she wadded up her trash. “And thanks. For lunch. I have biscuits. Would you like gravy for dessert?”

“God, yes.”

While she worked in the kitchen, he moved around the living room, keeping one eye on her while he looked for clues to solve the persistent puzzle that was Abby—what existed past the rapid change of subjects and the willingness to talk about anything other than herself. She was from the South. She had to be. No one north of the Mason-Dixon knew about chocolate gravy. And from here he could see the kitchen curtains. In her clean, modern space, the bright white, country curtains with lilacs embroidered on the hem stood out. Next time he’d get her lilacs instead of roses.

There weren’t any knickknacks, no photographs of people, no books other than ones from the library. She subscribed to
National Geographic
,
Time
and
Small Farm Today
.

“What?” she asked as she set the plate on the table.

“Nothing,” he lied as he picked up the nearest book.
Persuasion
by Jane Austen.

“Don’t profile me.”

Busted.

“Sorry, force of habit,” he said as he sat in front of his dessert and took a healthy bite. Sweet gravy, flaky biscuits, butter. Oh yeah, she was a Southern girl.

Rather than confirming his guess, he kept eating until his fork scraped his plate. It echoed through the silent house.

They cleaned up their mess, and he walked her back to her darkroom. “May I come in? I’d like to see it.”

“Didn’t you see it already?” she asked as she walked through the door.

“It was dark,” he teased, relieved to see her smile as she looked back at him.

The room was cast in shadows, and after his eyes adjusted he saw the darkroom of someone who hated small spaces, large and long, with her frame shop at one end, and a makeshift office at the other. Her processing center was in the middle. Photos cluttered every surface—framed ones of her friends that were obviously hers, and others that were clearly jobs. Prom, weddings, engagements, senior portraits—the perennial posed shots mixed with candid, playful pictures. “These are different.”

She came to his side and dragged two photos forward. The prom photos featured the same couple. “Would you rather have a memory of this?” She tapped the stiff, posed shot. “Or this?” She called his attention to the couple dancing and laughing. “Everyone
thinks
they want the first, but when they look back on memories, they look at selfies or candid shots. They remember their first dance, or laughing with their friends.

“And when they’re busy not thinking about the camera.” She pulled a set of engagement photos forward. “You see how people really feel.”

She went back to work, leaving him to continue his self-guided tour past tools worn shiny with use, rocks and other interesting objects probably picked up on hikes, framed leaves, pressed flowers, poems tacked to the bulletin board. It was the color and chaos he’d come to recognize as Abby’s brain.

As he thought about her mini-art class, he inevitably drew the comparison between the photos on her walls and the ones on his. The comparison between the two of them—he was always on the edge of the crowd looking for evil and ugliness, she was on the edge of it seeing happiness and beauty.

“I ran into Charlene at Herb’s,” he said. “She was drumming up business for the fundraiser. Are you going?”

“I’m working it.” She said as she went to the other side of the room, putting distance between them. “Are you going?”

He nodded. “Someone should keep an eye on Cassidy. We could go together.”

“We can’t date,” she said. As if to reiterate the point, she held the door open in a clear invitation for him to leave.

Jeff pulled his keys from his pocket and stopped in front of her. He kissed her cheek. “Okay, but we could drive together.”

Her breath stopped on an inhale, pressing her chest to his. Her thigh trembled. She was like her skittish horses, afraid but wanting to trust someone.

He wanted to be that someone.

“We’re going to the same place,” he whispered as he curved his hand around her waist. He stroked her soft cotton shirt, intent on soothing her. “And carpooling is good for the environment.”

The pulse leapt in her jugular, and he admitted that the petting was more about keeping her still as he pressed his lips to it. She sucked in another breath and wrapped her fingers around his shoulder. He stilled, waiting for her to push him away. Instead she tilted her head to give him easier access.

Dropping his keys to the floor, he tangled his fingers in her hair and held her still as he opened his mouth and sampled her skin. Dragging his tongue across her tendons, he reveled in the silky texture and, for the second time today, regretted having a beard.

Her nails scratched his scalp as she tugged him away from her throat and to her mouth, sighing in welcome even as he groaned in relief. As their tongues tangled and writhed, he nudged her legs apart with his knee. Abandoning her hair, he anchored his hand at the base of her spine and pulled her closer, sliding his thigh against her until she bucked against the friction.

Jeff pushed his hand from her waist up her ribs and covered her breast, letting her nipple press against his palm for a moment before he rolled it between his fingers and tugged, keeping rhythm with his thigh and his tongue. All the while, his hand on her back encouraged her to ride.

And she did, gasping against his mouth, drawing his tongue deeper, arching into his hand. Then she grabbed his ass and pulled him closer until he had her pinned to the wall and she wasn’t the only one struggling for air as she started to tremble.

“Come, darlin’.”

He lowered his head, and closed his lips over her nipple, sucking as though he could pull it through her clothes while her sweet cries echoed to the rafters. Once he could breathe, he switched places, leaning against the wall and holding her close. With his eyes closed and blood roaring though his ears, his other senses took over. Abby was shaky and pliant in his arms, and her perfume melded with the scents of hay, oil and horses.

“This will make carpooling awkward,” she whispered.

Relief flooded his muscles as he laughed. “I believe we can handle it.”

Chapter Fourteen

Jeff walked into the kitchen, his tie draped around his neck, as Cass tromped down the stairs. Her eyes went wide.

“Holy cow. Look at you.”

“I’m gray,” Jeff grumbled as he ran his hand over his shorter hair.

“You’ve been gray for a year. And it looks great on you or I would’ve told you otherwise.”

“Gee, thanks.” He rubbed his jaw and then consciously forced his hand down. He’d been doing that since he’d left the barber. It was weird, feeling skin against skin.

“She’ll like it, once she realizes who you are.”

“I didn’t do it for her. It had become too much trouble, and the beard itched.”

“Sure,” Cass snorted.

“Besides, I can’t look like that when I go back to the office so I might as well get used to it.” He wagged an end of the tie at her. “Help me with this.”

“Not a word about my dress?”

“It’s purple.”

“Plum.”

“And it’s too short, and too tight. No wonder you couldn’t walk down the stairs without sounding like a giraffe in a closet.”

“Wow, thanks. That had nothing to do with the dress. It was the shoes.”

Realizing she was almost at eye level, he looked down at her feet. Three-inch heels. “Tight hem, tall shoes. I hope you don’t have to run for your life.”

“In Fiddler?” she laughed as looped his tie into a knot. “Who does this for you in Chicago?”

“I can normally do it for myself.”

“Don’t be nervous. We can smell fear.”

“Ha-ha. Funny. Are you getting even for the giraffe comment?”

“Maybe,” Cass muttered as she tightened the knot against his throat. “There.” She stepped back and blinked. “Thomas Jefferson, you look like
Dad
.”

Jeff gulped. He knew he did. Hiding it under the beard and hair had made it easy to forget, to block the memories. With the beard, his mother had relaxed when he’d walked into the room—he was no longer a reminder of her long-dead husband.

Rather than standing here reliving their family tragedy, he went to the refrigerator and retrieved the flowers he’d stashed. “We’re taking Abby’s SUV since we have to drop Evan with Faye. I’m walking down in a few minutes. I’ll see you at the dance.”

“You’re taking her flowers?”

“Lilacs are her favorites,” Jeff mumbled.

“Wait ’til I tell Mom,” Cass teased as she walked past him to the door.

“Don’t you dare. I’ve got my hands full as it is.”

“Yeah, yeah...”

“Hey, Cassie?” Jeff waited until she faced him. “Thanks for everything. And you look great. Seriously.”

“Thanks.” She smiled. “See you at the party.”

When Cassie’s taillights disappeared, Jeff locked the house and walked through the gate into the pasture. The trail was easy to follow in the moonlight, but even in pitch dark he would’ve found his way. Between baseball practice and dinner, and then lunches with Abby, he’d spent more time in the valley than up here.

Yesterday he’d even carried his computer down there, and they’d shared her office. He’d worked all afternoon camped in her office chair, sipping tea and listening to music and to Toby’s nails clicking on the hardwood floors.

The breeze picked up, and he shivered as it chilled the nape of his neck and tickled his bare face. He hadn’t shaved for Abby, but he hoped she liked it...or at least didn’t mind.

It was surreal, walking through a pasture in a tux, carrying flowers and worrying if his date would like his haircut. The whole thing was weird, if he stopped to think about it. And he’d been thinking about it all day, ever since he’d sent the next few chapters off for review and then emailed Colonel Freeman with his suggestions for the ISP’s new lab. He was one step closer to finishing his job, to being ready to leave. And yet, not ready to leave at all.

He walked around the stable and through the yard toward the small house. Its windows glowed a soft yellow welcome. Evan pushed the living room curtains and waved wildly before disappearing. The front door swung open almost immediately.

“Hi! Do you think...” The boy’s question died as his eyes widened and he stepped backward.

“It’s me, Ev. I shaved, that’s all.” When the silence continued, Jeff sighed and smiled. “Our password is
werewolf
.”

“You look way different,” Evan said, grinning. “It’s sorta weird.”

“Gee, thanks.” Jeff walked up the steps and through the door. “Now what do you want to ask me?”

“Do you think Faye likes Clue as much as you do? Or should I take another game?”

“Clue should be fine, and you need to take your math homework, too.”

“Evan,” Abby called from the back. “Do you. Have your. Pajamas?”

“Yes, ma’am. And my toothbrush.”

She came around the corner into the living room and slid to a stop. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Jeff stood and stroked his fingers down his jaw. He wanted to reassure her, but he couldn’t find the words. She was beautiful, clad in teal with a black wrap caught on her elbows and delicate heels on her feet. Jesus, even her toes were pretty. Her deep brown hair was sleek and straight. “Wow,” he breathed.

“Who are the flowers for?” Evan asked.

Jeff stared at his hands. Right. Flowers. He took two steps into the living room and stopped, his nerves jangling under his skin. “Evan, why don’t you go get in the car? We’ll be out in a minute.”

“Backseat, Ev,” Abby clarified. “And buckle your seat belt.”

“Hurry up,” Evan called from halfway down the hall.

Jeff offered the bouquet. “I wanted to make up for last time.”

“Do you always bring flowers to carpool?” she teased as she took them into the kitchen and retrieved a cut glass vase.

“I’ve never carpooled before, so I didn’t know the rules. What about you? Do you always wear high heels?” He smiled when she shook her head. “Maybe we’ll start a trend.”

“How did you know I liked lilacs?”

“The kitchen curtains don’t match anything else in the house. There had to be a reason you kept them.” He smiled into her stare. “Never date a profiler, darlin’.”

He hadn’t known which color to get, so he’d bought them in every shade—white, lavender, deep purple and pink. The fragrance surrounded them, but she still lifted one flower to her nose and closed her eyes. Her dreamy expression reminded him of how she’d looked coming apart in his arms.

He’d plant her a forest of lilacs to see that look on her face every day. His body surged. He’d
put
that look on her face every day. Halfway to kissing her, he saw the tear clinging to her lashes.

“Hey,” Jeff whispered as he lifted her gaze to his. “What’s this?”

His heart twisted. He would put that look on her face. No matter how right this felt, he was leaving.

“Memories,” she sniffed and dashed the tear away. “Are you ready to go?”

Leave her alone, Crandall.
“In a minute.” He kissed her lightly. “You’re beautiful, Abby.”

She was, and it had nothing to do with her polished clothes. He’d thought it every time he’d visited. He’d looked past her silence to see the humor dancing in her eyes as she shared a joke no one thought she’d heard, or when she found her friends funny but didn’t tell them. She was intelligent, graceful and kind—and incredibly fragile.

“Thank you,” she said. “The ladies won’t know what to do with you. You’ll probably dance all night.” She traced his jawline with her fingers, tickling the skin. “You look so civilized.”

“It’s just an act.” He winked. “Do you like it?” He’d sworn he wouldn’t ask her that.

She kept her hand on his jaw. “The beard was comforting, but this way I can see your face.”

“Is that a good thing?” He was vain. He’d admitted it years ago. But now it was humbling to admit that it mattered what she thought.

“Smile.” She whispered the command.

“Are you always this bossy?” he teased as he obeyed.

“Damn. You’re...
pretty
.”

He wanted to kiss her, but he knew he wouldn’t stop until they were naked and sprawled on the floor. Besides, she had a job to do.

The horn honked in the garage. And they had an impatient little boy in the car.

Jeff tightened the wrap around her shoulders and put his hand on her waist to guide her away from the temptation. “Thank you, but don’t say that out loud. The guys would never let me live it down.”

* * *

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Abby asked as they slowed to turn into the country club entrance. “He gets difficult if he’s bored.”

“He looked like he was moving in,” Jeff teased. “Why didn’t you just have a sitter come to the house?”

“They shouldn’t be out there alone,” she said. “Besides, all the girls old enough to sit will be at the dance.”

“But a retirement home? Are you sure Faye’s up to it?”

“The residents love him. And the nurses can help keep him safe.”

Safe. She was always worried about his safety. “Andy’s in jail, Ab.”

“You never. Know what. Might happen.”

Every case in his career was a study in what might happen. His adolescence had been the same. One day he’d been worried about summer league baseball, the next he’d been making sure his mother turned off the stove after breakfast. And he’d become obsessed about never being late for curfew and making her worry.

“Don’t make him scared of his shadow. He needs to be a kid.”

“Don’t worry. I always act brave. Even when I have to kill the spiders.”

They stopped at the back of the line and waited on the valet. “You’re afraid of spiders?” What other small details didn’t he know about her life?

She shivered. “All those eyes and legs, and able to go anywhere. They’re creepy. And Evan hates them almost as much as I do. So one of us has to be brave. I’m the grown-up. That’s my job.”

“Speaking of.” He took her hand. “How did it go with Tracy Hoover?”

Her fingers flexed in his. “I have a show in a month.”

“That’s a short turnaround.”

“She had a hole in her calendar because someone flaked out on her, and I have the photos already.” She fidgeted in her seat. “I don’t want to chicken out, and I will if I have to think about it.”

“You’ll do fine,” he assured her. “The entire town will make the trip.”

At the door, Jeff handed the keys to the attendant and walked around the car, waving off the valet. He opened the door to see her smiling and reaching for his hand as she lifted her camera bag in the other. “You know, that’s his job.”

“No way in hell was I going to let him stare at your legs,” Jeff growled. “That’s
my
job.”

He walked her into the bustling room and searched for friendly faces. Cass waved from one side of the room, surrounded by giggling girls. Gray waved from the other, sitting at an empty table. Another group waved, and Jeff stared hard before he recognized the patrolmen from the Fiddler P.D.

“Let’s go sit with—”

“You go sit,” Abby said as she slid her hand from his arm. “I have to work.”

“Of course,” he said, putting his fingers on her back and sticking close to her while she circled the room. “Where do you want to set up?”

“Close to the dance floor but at the edge of the room so I can move.”

Gray’s table fit those guidelines. Jeff nudged her in that direction, then pushed her when she resisted. “It’s just a chair, Abby.”

“You finally found a barber,” Gray teased as he stood. “I wouldn’t have recognized you if it wasn’t for your date.” He hugged Abby. “You, on the other hand, look marvelous.”

“It isn’t a date,” Abby said, her words muffled by his shoulder.

Gray looked over the top of her head, arching his eyebrow.

They were dressed up, he’d brought her flowers, they’d found a sitter, and he’d driven her here—to a room filled with music and a buffet. It was a fucking date. “You heard the woman,” Jeff said as he held Abby’s chair.

“This thing is a whole lot more fun when you’re married,” Maggie said as she joined them. “No wonder everyone looks forward to it.” Her smile spread wider. “Jeff?”

The general disbelief became a theme as the rest of the group arrived. Just as they got it out of their system, the lights flashed and the emcee called all the participants to the dance floor.

Abby elbowed him. “Go dance.”

“In a minute. Do you want a bottle of water?”

She nodded as she raised the camera to eye level, and Jeff left for the bar. When he returned, he had to hunt her down by looking for the flash.

“Thanks,” she said. “You don’t have to wait on me.”

“I know.”

Rather than staying behind her, Jeff went back to the table and sat with the various members of the group as they came and went from the dance floor. And he had fun
not
looking for a date.

He slumped back in his chair. He hadn’t looked for a date in about a year. It was difficult to recall his last one. Sheila something, maybe? She’d been a redhead, he remembered, because she’d reminded him of Gray’s crazy ex, Shelby. More than that, she’d been...wrong. It just hadn’t felt right to be with her.

It had felt wrong to be with anyone since the first time he’d held a door for Abby.

His heart thudded harder in his chest, and his stomach sank as he counted how many times he stared across the room when her camera flashed—eager to see her smile.
Aw, damn.

When the lights came up for intermission, he had a plate of snacks at her chair, baiting her to sit beside him. “Do you have all the pictures you need?”

She nodded. “You aren’t. Dancing.”

“I will in a minute. Just figuring out who likes whom.”

“How do you know that if you don’t dance?”

He put his arm along the back of her chair. “You know that and you haven’t danced.” He leaned forward until they were almost nose to nose. “It’s all about how close they get to one another.” He dropped his voice. “How low they whisper.” He ran his finger across her back. “How many times they touch each other when they don’t have to.”

Her eyes widened. “Jeff.”

He sat straight and nudged the plate toward her. “Eat.”

All through the intermission, he kept his hand on her back while they visited with their friends. When the lights flashed signaling the second round of dancing, he stood and offered his hand. “Dance with me.”