Cold Snap, page 6
Ouch.
Darrell wrenched open the cruiser’s door and climbed into the tricked-out SUV with the Sheriff’s logo painted on the side in green and gold.
Grady watched the man speed away down the familiar narrow streets. Did Darrell know anything about Eli Kane? Did he suspect that one of the FBI’s Most Wanted criminals was hiding out in town? Grady doubted it. Darrell simply wasn’t that smart.
What about the former sheriff?
Sheriff Temple York was eagle-eyed and intuitive and had never missed a trick. His son had been an entitled SOB, and his father did everything to protect him.
Darrell’s parents lived in a fancy modern house up on the headland. Supposedly the money came from his wife’s side of the family. Grady was gonna make sure the FBI dug into that. Just in case the money was a payoff to keep quiet.
Suddenly finding Eli Kane and figuring out who else in his hometown might know the truth had become an essential mission. What other lies hid beneath the surface of this quiet, tight-knit community that had always looked down their noses at him?
He was going to do his very best to find out.
Brynn struggled to get to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Milton’s glassy-eyed stare. A floorboard above her head creaked and her eyes widened as she remembered that only a door separated the basement apartment from the rest of the house.
Her heart started racing.
Did Grady have the key? Should she be worried?
He’d have to be the stupidest murderer in history if he intended to kill her and get away with it…but she’d still be dead.
She jumped out of bed and crept over to the short staircase that led up to the main house. She eased her way cautiously up the varnished treads, wincing as one of them groaned. She paused and then, when the house remained silent, slowly continued.
It wasn’t as if she was doing anything wrong. This was her right to privacy as a tenant.
Had Crystal Grogan been spying on her? She guessed it wasn’t unreasonable to have cameras on the entryways. But what if Brynn had wanted to take a lover for a night? Revulsion curled in her stomach at the thought of one of the town’s biggest gossips knowing what was going on in Brynn’s personal life.
At the top of the stairs, she carefully reached out and made sure that the two bolts were engaged, top and bottom.
She eased silently back down the stairs, almost embarrassed to be doing what was basic security. That was the problem with society—expecting women to be polite rather than allowing them to fiercely embrace their own safety.
She checked the front door again and slipped back into bed.
She grabbed her phone and searched Grady Steel’s name online. The articles for the past twenty-four hours were numerous, and all painted a picture of a scandalous incident and disgraced agent. But they were extremely light on details. No victim’s name. Simply a photograph of a black truck being towed away.
There were millions of black trucks in the US.
She remembered Grady’s vehement denial. Surely if there was any physical evidence that he’d been involved in someone’s death, even accidentally, he’d have been locked up already?
The FBI wouldn’t just take his word for it though, they had a reputation to protect. It wasn’t a small sheriff’s department in some Podunk town. It was the FBI.
She plugged her phone back in and turned off the light. She was tired, and she needed sleep. The floorboard above her head creaked again.
Dammit.
Brynn clutched her pillow to her chest. Then she got up again, closed the bedroom door, and wedged a wooden chair under the handle. Back in bed, she opened the bedside table and pulled out her snub-nosed 9-mm pistol. She checked to be sure there was a bullet in the chamber before placing it within reach.
This time when she lay down, she let the tiredness drag her down into the depths of sleep.
9
Grady was up early the next morning, clearing the footpaths and steps of the thin layer of snow that had fallen overnight when he saw Brynn Webster emerge from her basement apartment.
“Morning.” He tried to assess her mood.
The dark circles that shadowed her eyes suggested she hadn’t slept well. Her voice was gruff with tiredness and suspicion. “Morning.”
In daylight he could see her hair was a deep reddish amber, almost the color of sugar maple leaves in the fall. It peeked out from beneath a gray hat. Stormy gray-green eyes with thick dark lashes were emphasized by a sprinkling of freckles over a pert nose.
She was a lot prettier than he remembered in school, but he hadn’t paid a lot of attention back then. A six-year age difference was a generation to a teenager. She’d been a kid when he’d been growing into a man.
Darrell York sure was paying attention nowadays.
Were they lovers?
For some reason, the idea left a sour taste in Grady’s mouth.
It wasn’t only the fact the guy was married. Darrell had constantly cheated on his girlfriends back in high school. Grady doubted a wedding band would change the habits of a lifetime, and he pitied Lorraine. But she’d known what she was getting into.
He didn’t understand how someone could fall for the good ol’ boy charm and not see through to the moral decay beneath. While Darrell might not be overtly corrupt, he certainly wasn’t an upstanding or particularly admirable citizen. He was a cheat and a bully and a liar.
Brynn hadn’t seemed particularly friendly toward the sheriff last night, but the way Darrell had staked his territory suggested he was hoping that might change. She hadn’t been particularly friendly toward Grady either. He needed to change that, but he could tell she was still, rightfully, cautious.
He propped the snow shovel against the side of the house, rubbed his bare hands together and blew into them. He had gloves somewhere he should dig out. “So, where’s the best place around here to get a decent cup of coffee?”
She shot him a reluctant smile. “I’m not about to suggest anywhere in this town is better than my mom’s place.”
Which was the opening he’d hoped for. “Are you going there now, or are you off to church?”
“The café.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
“We’re not open to the public for another hour.”
He let a smile curve his lips. Dusted off his rusty charm. “I won’t get in the way, promise. I can even make the coffee myself.” She looked startled by the idea. “I need to stock up with groceries, but the shops don’t open for another hour, and I’m dying here without caffeine.”
“Hah. If you can figure out the coffee machine without help, I’ll give you a job on the spot.” Brynn snorted.
“I like a challenge.”
He ignored her surprised expression, then jogged up the steps to lock the front door. It wouldn’t keep his sister out, but he had plans for that. He was back down the steps before Brynn had reached the end of the drive.
She frowned as he fell into step beside her. “Does Crystal really have security cameras set up?”
“She did.” Grady grimaced. “I took them all down and will deliver them back to her this afternoon.” He didn’t want his sister watching his actions day and night. He stuffed his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. “As far as I can tell, they only covered the outside doors and garage. I assume it was for security rather than pure nosiness.”
Brynn raised a cynical brow. “I think you’re being kind.”
“That’s not something I’m accused of very often.” He shot her a smile. He planned to erect his own camera system, but he’d give Brynn as much privacy as he was able.
He wanted to ask her what had happened with her husband but needed to worm his way into her trust. Something told him she wouldn’t want to discuss getting dumped. Who would?
“What I don’t understand is why she’s letting you stay and why you feel it’s okay to take down her cameras?” Her clever eyes were on him, searching his face for answers.
“If it was up to Crys, I’d be sleeping in my car.” He stuffed his hands even deeper in his fleece-lined leather jacket and at Brynn’s confused expression explained. “She’s not letting me stay. It’s my place.”
“What?” She looked baffled. “You jointly own it?”
He shook his head.
“She ran the rentals for you?”
“Let’s just say the first I knew about the rental situation was when I walked in the door last night.” Agent Ropero had informed him Friday afternoon. Hadn’t he felt like a fool.
Brynn’s eyes sparkled with a cross between outrage and wonder. “Crystal told everyone in town it was her house.”
Grady rolled his shoulders. Pulled a face. “In which case, for my own sanity, it would be better to let people believe she’s doing me a favor, rather than the other way around.”
Her brows creased and met. “I think you’re being far kinder to her than she’s ever been to you.”
He shrugged away the unexpected sting of that statement. The fact his and Crystal’s relationship was so irrevocably broken made him suddenly sad. And, although legally the place was his, guilt still festered that their grandma had made the choice she had.
“Maybe it’s time one of us tried a little kindness or at least mercy on the other.” A shaggy gray dog darted down a side street. It didn’t have a collar, and he wondered if it had escaped or if it was a stray. It was gone by the time they crossed the street.
They approached the café and began passing other people on the sidewalk, many of whom he recognized. Grady held people’s gazes and nodded, but they ignored him and said good morning to Brynn instead.
Resentment hardened inside him, but he pushed it aside. He’d made the decision to go along with this plan. It was practical and efficient. The unexpected hurt from the town’s rejection was something he’d have to swallow. He should be used to it by now.
They reached the café, and she led him down the side of the building and up the wooden steps at the back.
She almost slipped, and he steadied her, ignoring the soft curves in his hands and concentrating instead on keeping the two of them from face-planting on the ice-encrusted deck.
He helped her grip the side rail. “You okay there?”
She laughed, and the sound rang out in the quiet morning. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Stay there.” He hung onto the side as he skated forward and made his way to the wooden barrel full of sand that was on the deck beside a snow shovel. He tossed down a few scoopfuls and then sprinkled more over the steps while Brynn watched him.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head.
He let a smile steal over his lips and recognized the stirring of interest in her gaze. “What?”
She hiked a delicate brow. “You seem awfully nice for someone with the reputation of a reprobate.”
“Not to mention an alleged killer,” Grady said bluntly.
Brynn flinched, and her face blanched, clearly remembering the bullet hole in Milton Bodurek’s forehead.
“Shit. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He planted the scoop back in the barrel. Turned to look over the harbor which was gray in the early morning light.
He’d never imagined coming back to this town, this community, not after his grandmother passed. Being here filled him with a mix of longing and nostalgia he hadn’t expected. The scent of the seashore, the scrape of the wind over his weather-beaten flesh, the screech of the gulls on chimney tops, the noise of boats bobbing gently on the water. Fog hugged the water but was burning off the rooftops like steam in the thin rays of the morning sun. It was atmospheric and ghostly and made a shiver shimmer along his senses.
Good thing he didn’t believe in ghosts.
Brynn moved to stand beside him as they both stared down at the waterfront. Yellow tape cordoned off the marina where Milton Bodurek’s sailboat was moored. Two sheriff’s department SUVs were parked, blocking entry to the walkway.
“Do you think he was killed on his boat?” Brynn asked in a quiet murmur.
Grady rolled his shoulder and narrowed his gaze. “Probably.”
“Do you think the murderer is someone from town, or some stranger passing through?”
He looked down and caught the worried expression in her gray-green eyes. “What do you think?”
She turned back to watch the deputies working the scene. “It’s always easier to believe that killers are not the people who walk amongst us.”
Grady nodded. “Easier, but not necessarily accurate.”
She shivered. “Do you think it has something to do with the bank robbery? Milton was the manager there, and this town is not generally a hotbed of crime.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.” Definitely.
She examined him, her gaze searching for better answers.
“Could the killer be a danger to anyone else?” She blew out an exasperated breath. “I know you don’t have the answers, but you’re in the FBI, and I’m worrying out loud.”
He watched the dive team suiting up to go into the water and wished he was with them. He liked action, not sitting around on the sidelines waiting for clues to fall into his lap.
“I guess that depends on why they killed him. But there is one thing…” He met her gaze and hated how fear formed shadows across the back of her eyes. “I wouldn’t be taking any more lonesome walks along the harbor at night. Not until this bastard is caught.”
10
Brynn boosted the heating in the café to combat the chill that had clung to her bones since last night.
“I have defused bombs less complicated than this coffeemaker,” Grady Steel growled as he stood with his legs apart, bending slightly from the waist as he concentrated on figuring out the sophisticated and temperamental machine her mother had imported from France twenty years ago.
Brynn tried not to notice the lean muscles as he stood there in a T-shirt and jeans, but she’d be lying if she said her mouth didn’t go a little bit dry when looking at him. Maybe it was a good thing that she was finally attracted to another man. It proved she was truly over Aiden.
Grady swore again.
Brynn held back a grin because she liked the fact she wasn’t the only one who was confounded by the damn thing. Her parents insisted that they’d paid so much for it that they would never replace it.
Suddenly, there was a hiss of steam, and the scent of good coffee permeated the air. The look on Grady’s face was pure satisfaction that he’d solved a problem, even if the problem was only creating coffee.
“Hah ah!” His face lit up with glee, those sky-blue eyes shining with intelligence. “How do you take your coffee, Ms. Webster?”
She laughed and shook her head as she slid him two clean mugs from the dishwasher. It felt good to smile again after her experience last night and the worries about a killer being out there on the loose plaguing her sleep. Not a lot she could do about it. She was hardly a likely target, but she would take a few extra precautions until he—or she—was caught.
“Lots of milk for me. No sugar.”
“Sweet enough, huh?”
Her toes curled at the warm look he threw her, and she told herself she was being ridiculous. Everything she knew about this man suggested he was surly and potentially dangerous. Not the sort of guy she should get tingles from looking at.
But perhaps the guy had changed. He was, usually at least, an FBI agent.
And didn’t everyone deserve a second chance? Everyone except her ex, that was.
Grady was the polar opposite in looks and demeanor from her former husband. The dark and slightly dangerous aspect of Grady Steel contrasted sharply with Aiden’s polite blond perfection. He’d been far too perfect, she realized. Like some fake Ken doll.
Dammit.
Thoughts of Aiden had her good mood disappearing.
Grady pushed the mug in front of her and she blinked her way back to the present.
She shook herself out of her painful memories and picked up the coffee and took a sip. “Oh. That’s good.” She took another sip. “Really good.”
“Millions of dollars have been spent by the US government training me.” The ecstatic expression that crossed his features when he took a sip from his own mug was amusing and sexy as hell.
“That, ma’am, is your tax dollars at work.” He raised his brows. “I guess I have to be good for something, huh?”
Sympathy moved through her. She couldn’t imagine this man leaving an injured person on the side of the road to die, and she knew exactly how painful it was to be accused of doing something you hadn’t. “The FBI will figure it out.”
He lifted his cup to his lips again and grinned. “Yeah, well, they better get a move on before I get a better offer.”
“You’d be hired in a snap, but I’m not sure I can pay you what the federal government does.” She checked the clock and frowned.
Grady noticed the action. “Something wrong?”
“No.” She placed mugs on shelves and then started putting this morning’s delivery of fresh locally made baked goods into the refrigerated glass display case. “Just that my server, Jackie Somers, was supposed to help me open. She called in sick yesterday, but I haven’t heard from her today to say she isn’t coming. She should have been here fifteen minutes ago.”
“Is she usually reliable?”
Brynn pulled a face. “Not the term I’d use. She can be a little flexible with her timekeeping, but she’s a good worker once she’s here.”
“Want me to help out until she turns up?”
“No, don’t be silly.”
“What’s silly about lending you a hand when you need it?” His expression flattened. “I have nothing better to do right now. At least I’ll have a front row seat to the Grady Steel roasting and get to hear what everyone is saying.”
“Likely that you killed Milton Bodurek on his boat and pushed him in the water before running around to help me pull him out?”
