The Marshal Read online

  Heck of a mess. He’ll be steamed at you now.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Jamie’s Jeep pull up. Perfect. No more stewing about Brent. She grabbed her purse and hopped out. Jamie did the same, but Jenna was hoping they could talk in her car.

  “Hi,” Jamie called. “Who’s that with you?”

  “Just a coworker. We have a meeting after this.”

  Total lie, but it would do.

  “Ah. It’s a beautiful morning. How about we get coffee and sit at one of the picnic tables?”

  Coffee and an outside table. Terrific.

  “Great,” Jenna said, finger-brushing her hair forward.

  Jamie came around the front of the car, moved in to give Jenna a hug and stopped.

  Yep. Here we go.

  “What happened?”

  “Just a cut.”

  “How on earth?”

  How much to tell her? Obviously, Brent hadn’t shared last night’s drama with his family, and Jenna wasn’t sure it was her place to do so. On any other case, she wouldn’t even consider talking about it. In her mind, it fell under the rule of privileged information. But Jamie was a friend, right?

  Sort of.

  Again with the emotional entanglements. Friendships had no place in an investigation.

  Jenna waved it away. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  They marched by the truckers, a couple of guys in their forties wearing jeans, ripped T-shirts and filthy baseball caps.

  “Hey, ladies,” one of them said.

  “Morning,” Jenna chirped.

  Wait for it.

  “What’s your hurry?” the bigger guy cracked. “Come over here and let us have a look at you.”

  Jenna grabbed Jamie’s elbow. “No, thanks. You boys have a great day.”

  “You could make it better,” the other one yelled.

  She sure could. By showing them her .38. Idiots. Jenna sighed. “Keep walking. They won’t bother us.”

  “You get that a lot, huh?”

  Sure do. Sometimes, when it served a purpose, she encouraged it. At least she used to before she had the blasted ugly stitches. “If being objectified by men is the worst of my problems, I can handle it.”

  Inside the truck stop, they bought coffee and Jamie added a donut—this family loved their sweets. Jenna paid for the items, keeping her head partially cocked so her hair would feather over the bandage. What was she doing? People stared at her all the time. Why did this have to be different?

  This time your face is a mess.

  That’s why.

  Hurrying out of the shop, Jenna led Jamie to a group of picnic tables near the grassy area. She glanced to her right and noted the truckers saddling up. Good. What she didn’t want was them wandering over and harassing them.

  Jamie dove into her donut while Jenna creamed her java and then retrieved her notepad. That donut looked pretty good. Had to be five hundred calories. Had to be. She loved a donut every once in a while and the proof of that was in the fifteen pound weight gain since her pageant days.

  “So what’s up?” Jamie set down the donut and licked frosting off her thumb.

  Go to work. “I mentioned on the phone I have questions about your uncle Mason.”

  Jamie flicked her glance to the donut, then came back to Jenna. “Did Brent say it’s okay?”

  Something in Jamie’s tone, that squirrelly hesitation, sparked a nerve. Jamie had something to say and it wasn’t necessarily good.

  “I haven’t told him yet. I wasn’t sure how to handle it, and I don’t want to upset him. But he wanted me to investigate and that means digging into his parents’ marriage. No way around that. If you’re concerned about it, I can keep this conversation between us. As much as I can anyway.”

  Because if Mason Thompson was a murderer and went to trial, they’d probably all be called to testify.

  Jamie winced. “I hate talking about his family without him knowing it. It feels like a betrayal and I love him. I don’t want him hurt anymore.”

  I know how you feel. All too well. Brent and his brooding, nontalking self had wormed his way into her life, and she wasn’t letting him go. It might devastate her, because men like Brent were tough. They had those steel exteriors that wouldn’t let people in.

  And she wanted in.

  Jenna reached across the table and squeezed Jamie’s hand. “If it helps at all, I know how you feel. I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I’m pretty crazy about him myself.”

  “I knew it. When he went searching for you at dinner the other night, I could see it. Plus, he’s anxious when he’s around you. With the way he’s acting, he could be a male dog waiting on a female in heat.”

  Only half-horrified, Jenna snorted. “I’m definitely not telling him you said that.” She drew her hand back, picked up her pen. “I just wanted you to know I won’t hurt him. Whatever you tell me, I’ll protect him. As much as I can, anyway. I promise.”

  Jamie squared her shoulders. “Okay. Ask me your questions.”

  “Thank you. Can you give me an idea of what Brent’s parents’ marriage was like? Did they fight a lot? Were they happy?”

  “All parents fight.”

  “So, nothing crazy. No domestic violence?”

  Jamie stayed quiet, her big green eyes on Jenna, but not necessarily sharp or focused. Mind wandering. “I never saw him hit her.”

  Hit her. Quite specific. Too specific. And Jamie was still staring in that strange way that begged to be questioned. “I feel like you want to say something.” More silence. Move on. “Brent’s father worked evenings, right? Was that ever an issue?”

  “Not that I know of, but he didn’t like people at the house when he wasn’t there.”

  From inside her purse, Jenna’s phone chirped. Bad timing. She ignored it. “Like who?”

  “Female friends were fine, but no men. If they needed work done on the house and repairmen had to come, he had to be there.”

  “Was there a reason? Did he have trust issues?”

  Sure sounded like a jealous husband. In Jenna’s line of work, she saw a lot of that.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I overheard my mother complaining about it one night. Mason didn’t like my dad going over there when he wasn’t home. My mom was appalled. It wasn’t like they were having an affair or anything.”

  Oh, hey, now. That’s fascinating. Jenna set her pen down hoping the lack of note taking might loosen Jamie’s lips more. “Do you know if there was a history of adultery? Either of them?”

  “Heck, no.”

  “You seem pretty sure.”

  “Well, I...huh.”

  “What?”

  She shrugged. “I guess I don’t know. I mean who really knows what goes on in a marriage?”

  Indeed. “So nothing comes to mind?”

  “No. Aside from him not wanting men in the house. That was always a big deal.”

  “Who were her male friends?”

  “You think she was having an affair?”

  Here, Jenna needed to be careful. This was Brent’s mother, his protective aunt’s sister. One slipup and Sylvie would be on Brent about it and Jenna’s life would get a dose of misery.

  “I don’t think anything. I’m trying to get an idea of what the marriage was like.”

  “I’ve never heard any rumors about an affair. I think I would know.”

  “With affairs, it could be a love triangle gone bad. Sometimes the boyfriend wants the woman to leave her family and when she refuses, he gets angry.”

  “Like I said, I think I’d have heard about that, but if you want a list of the men they were friends with, it’s easy. Just look at the phone listings for Carlisle. Everyone knew everyone. And Aunt Cheryl was loved.”

  Jenna nodded. This trip couldn’t be considered a success, but this jealousy thing might be a lead. Brent, in his eternal I-refuse-to-talk mode hadn’t mentioned his father having control issues.

  “I think that’s all I need. If you think of
anything else, would you call me?”

  “Sure.”

  Jenna rose from the bench, grabbed her still-full coffee cup, the contents now cold, and tossed it in the garbage can.

  “Jenna?”

  “Yes?”

  “He yelled a lot. Mason.”

  Ah, this was what Jamie had held back. “What did he yell about?”

  “I don’t know. Stupid things. If the house wasn’t spotless, a dirty dish in the sink, whatever. When it was warm out and the windows were open, we’d hear him. I never saw bruises on her or anything, though. I don’t think he hit her.”

  Jenna set her hand on Jamie’s arm and squeezed. “Not hitting doesn’t mean he wasn’t an abuser.”

  “I know. He just liked things a certain way and he’d get mad if they weren’t.”

  “I see.”

  Controlling husband, men not allowed in the house, a lot of yelling. Sure sounded like an abuser. Dammit. Part of Brent, the part that had witnessed the yelling and control issues, probably could believe his father was a murderer.

  When they reached Jenna’s car, she turned to Jamie. “Thank you. I know this was hard.”

  “I don’t want to be starting rumors is all.”

  “You’re not. I need the puzzle pieces and you’ve helped. Thank you.”

  After saying goodbye, Jenna slid into her car, waited for Jamie to pull away and, without a word to Mike, retrieved her phone from her purse. One missed call. She clicked on it and the number she’d dialed earlier from the conference room popped up.

  Brent’s father had returned her call.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Sometimes I wonder if I’m speaking a foreign language,” Brent said.

  He stood in the doorway of the executive conference room at Hennings & Solomon trying—really trying—not to lose it on Jenna. She spun from writing something on a whiteboard plastered with photos of Jeffries, another guy and...his father. Her list of suspects. A sick feeling settled in Brent’s gut.

  Marker still in hand, she scrunched her face, clearly insulted by his tone. She didn’t like it? He could give her a list of things he didn’t like.

  Starting with her going back on her word.

  She capped the marker and tossed it into a box on the cabinet beside her. “If that’s your greeting, maybe you should try again. And you can start by closing that door so half the office doesn’t hear you.”

  Right. Mad as he was, making her bosses an audience wouldn’t help her career. He stepped in, smacked the door shut and crossed his arms.

  “Oh, you’re definitely about to pick a fight.”

  Ya think? But no, he wasn’t owning this one. This one fell squarely on her. “Actually, you started this one.”

  “Me?”

  But the way she looked at him, a little pouty and innocent, wasn’t jibing. He eyeballed her, shook his head at her dramatics and walked to within a couple of feet of her. Jenna held his gaze, her body unmoving, but in all that stillness, they both knew she was busted.

  “Brent—”

  “I had two requests.” He held up a finger. “That you not go anywhere alone.” The next finger. “And that you give me a heads up when talking to my family.”

  “Right. I didn’t go alone, but I did talk to Jamie.”

  “At least you’re honest about it.”

  “I can explain.”

  “Terrific.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I hate it when you’re a jerk.”

  “And you don’t think you were a jerk today? Sneaking off to talk to Jamie?”

  Her shoulders dipped forward, deflating like one of those giant air balloons he saw in front of stores having blow-out sales.

  “If I was, then I was a jerk doing my job.”

  This is where he had to be careful. When she hit him with those sparkly blue eyes, his system went wacky, and if he didn’t keep that in check, she’d talk her way around him.

  “I don’t understand why you kept this from me.”

  “Because I wasn’t sure what she’d tell me. I wanted her to feel like she could talk to me without hesitation. I’m fairly stunned she told you. She seemed concerned that you’d be upset.”

  “She didn’t tell me.”

  “Well, she was the only one there.”

  Having spent even a minimal amount of time around his family, she should have anticipated how this worked. Instead, she chose not to give him a heads-up and left him blindsided. Something he hated above all else.

  “Jamie told my aunt and, guess what, babe? I had her all over my butt. Getting hysterical because we’re digging up skeletons.”

  “Then maybe you should be having this conversation with Jamie, because she’s the one who opened her mouth.”

  “How about we get back to the fact that you lied to me?”

  Jenna bunched her fists at him. “I didn’t lie to you.”

  “Lying and lying by omission are the same.”

  Bottom line: he’d trusted her and she’d blown it. The one time in his life he’d given in, let down his guard and—whomp—he got burned.

  Coming closer, she held out her hands. “No, Brent, they’re not.”

  He didn’t care. Why should he? If he couldn’t trust her, what was the point? “I need to be able to trust you.”

  “You can trust me.”

  Her eyes were so big and blue a man could lose himself in those suckers. Dive right in and never come out. He should walk now. Get it over with and maybe they could stay friendly when they saw each other.

  Except she latched on to his arm, the beauty queen with an iron grip. “Whatever you’re thinking, we will talk this through.”

  No talking. Talking was the hell that burned inside him. If he let that out, game over. He’d never recover. Fighting his urge to bolt and leave this nonsense, the emotional chaos and stress behind, he locked his knees.

  “Tell me I can trust you.”

  Where’d that come from?

  She moved closer, and squeezed his arm. “Yes, you can trust me. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. On a personal level, I’m protecting you. Part of that means not telling you things. If there’s something you should know, I’ll tell you. Otherwise, let me do my job.”

  One at a time, she uncurled her fingers. Maybe in case he tried to bolt. To test his theory, he flinched and she latched on again. Despite himself, he half-smiled. Somewhere in this mess, her holding him hostage was funny.

  He patted her hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Still, she hung on. “You can trust me. Please know that.”

  He tilted his head, ran his finger along the edge of the bandage on her cheek. All because of his mother’s case. He’d put her in danger, unintentional as it was. He’d gotten her into this.

  “I’m usually the one in charge,” he said. “Everyone comes to me for answers. When my aunt called me, I didn’t have any and I felt...weak.”

  “Feeling weak doesn’t make you less of a man. It makes you human. If you don’t have answers, maybe I do. Give me that chance. Ask me before you get mad. That’s the only way this will work. Your family is great, but they know how to work you. I told Jamie you didn’t know we were talking.”

  “And she turned around and told my aunt.”

  Jenna touched her finger to her nose. “Jamie didn’t want to be the one to spill the beans on me so she went to your aunt. Why she did that, I don’t know.”

  “She probably felt guilty keeping it from me.” He shook his head. “She stinks at secrets.”

  “Whatever her reasons, she pitted us against each other and we can’t have that. Professionally or personally.” She twisted his shirt in her fist and tugged. “I need you on my side. Can you do that?”

  He turned it over in his mind, stretched it in all directions. Instinctively he knew the answer, but communicating it didn’t come so easy. Being on her side meant being on no one else’s. That steadfast, unconditional acceptance. He’d never had that with anyone outside of his sister and his aunt’s
family.

  Time to try it.

  He nodded. “I can do that.”

  She went up on tiptoes and hit him with a lip-lock. Right there in the conference room where anyone could walk in. He dipped his head lower, skimmed his hands over her waist and settled them in that groove at the base of her back. The tips of his fingers skimmed her butt and his chest went crazy again. Damn, he loved that.

  Loved her.

  He backed away, nibbled her bottom lip. “Where are you sleeping tonight?”

  “Hopefully wherever you are.”

  “I think we can make that happen.”

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING EVENING, after depositing his witness at a safe house, Brent checked his dashboard clock. 6:30 p.m. Early. Any other night, he’d hit the gym and grab a bite. Plus, it was the first of the month, a time he usually made the rounds of his law enforcement friends asking for any and all updates on cases similar to his mom’s.

  Tonight, he didn’t have it in him. For the first time, even more than chasing down his mother’s killer, he wanted to go home to someone.

  Specifically, to Jenna. After a life spent numbing himself to emotional attachments, a high-maintenance ex-beauty queen suddenly made him want to mix things up. He rested his head back and his stomach rumbled. Dinner first, gym later. But that didn’t sound like a banner evening. He checked the clock again. 6:32 p.m.

  When he’d called Jenna earlier, she’d said she’d be at her parents’ for dinner until eight. Where she was sleeping tonight, she hadn’t said. She’d spent last night with him and he was definitely hoping for a replay. All Brent knew was he hadn’t seen her since that morning and didn’t like it.

  He grabbed his phone from the cup holder and shot her a text.

  SLEEPOVER?

  No one would ever call him a romantic with that line. Eh, he’d find other ways to please her.

  The text buzzed back.

  PENNY WOULD CALL YOU A PIG.

  No doubt. And it made him laugh as he typed.

  I MISS YOU.

  Come on. First I announce I love her and now this. Definitely losing my man card.