Still, there had been a moment there when she thought she saw something in those dark blue eyes. Something intense and glittering and just out of reach. And he hadn’t exactly pushed her away, either, even after she regained her balance.
Why not? she wondered.
She certainly wasn’t going to find any answers staring into the mirror of some convenience-store bathroom. If she didn’t hurry, they would be on the road forever.
She blew out a breath, did her best without a comb to straighten the wind-tangles from her hair, then walked out into the convenience store.
By the time she bought a couple bottles of water, some power bars and deli sandwiches that looked surprisingly fresh for later, she had nearly regained her equilibrium. At least she felt a little more centered, almost in control.
At the Jeep, Kate found Belle in her crate and Hunter leaning against the vehicle gazing up at the dark clouds, his arms folded across his chest. He straightened at her approach.
“Sorry I took so long,” she said, hating that breathless note in her voice. “I bought some provisions so we don’t have to stop for lunch.”
“Good idea.” He moved around the vehicle to open the passenger door for her, which reminded her of something else she meant to bring up.
“Would you like me to drive for a while?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Maybe later. We’ve barely started.”
She wanted to remind him not to overdo it, to pace himself, but she was afraid that would sound entirely too much like a nagging wife, so she held her tongue. Besides, she knew if she had just spent the last thirty months in prison, she wouldn’t want to give up one iota of control to another person, in driving or anything else.
With her small bundle of provisions, she climbed into the passenger seat. He closed the door then walked around to the driver’s side and a few moments later they were back on the road.
After they left the gas station, she tried a few times to make conversation, but gave up when his answers were short and choppy.
Fine,
she thought. If the man wanted to ride three thousand miles as quiet as a post, she could entertain herself. She popped in a CD—a group she’d fallen in love with at the Snowbird Bluegrass Festival the summer before—kicked off her shoes, and pulled her book out again.
It was difficult to focus with Hunter sitting next to her but she called on the same powers of concentration that had helped her survive medical school and was soon lost in Wyatt’s prose.
She wasn’t sure how long she read, but she finally wrenched her attention away when her stomach growled again. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was at least the second time through the CD. She knew one corner of her brain had registered hearing that song already.
She reached to stop the CD player. “Sorry. I’m afraid Wyatt sucked me right in.”
He shifted his gaze briefly to her before returning his attention to the road stretching out ahead of them. “Yeah, your brother spins a good story, doesn’t he? I read a few of his books in prison.”
“Is that why you agreed to let him interview you?” Kate knew Wyatt was writing a book about the Ferrin murders. That was how he had met Taylor, the impetus behind the sequence of events that had led to Hunter’s sentence being voided by the state supreme court.
“I knew someone would write about the case. It was sensational enough that I knew it was only a matter of time. I was impressed by McKinnon’s writing and the way he treated the victims, with a dignity and respect that’s missing in a lot of other books of that genre. That’s why I agreed to cooperate with him instead of any of the other authors who contacted me.”
What must it have been like for him, she wondered, knowing he was innocent but being bombarded by members of the media who all thought him guilty as sin?
“You know, it was odd,” she said. “I don’t normally pick up true-crime books for my leisure reading—when I have time for leisure reading, which isn’t very often. But Wyatt’s books really appealed to me, right from the first. I read nearly his entire backlist before I ever knew…”
She tightened her lips as her voice trailed off. Why could she never seem to squeeze those words out? They tangled in her throat, lodged there like she’d swallowed a rock.
To her relief, Hunter finished the sentence for her. “Before you knew he was your brother?”
“Right,” she murmured.
She didn’t know much about siblings but Wyatt and Gage certainly didn’t feel like brothers. They were simply two very nice men who happened to share the same blood as her.
She admired them and enjoyed being in their company, but when she dug around in her heart for something deeper, she came up completely empty. Would that ever change? she wondered.
“What’s this book about?”
She passed him a sandwich from her provisions and the bottled water, and outlined the case
Blood Feud
focused on and a few of the key players in it. While they ate lunch on the go, they spent several moments discussing other Wyatt McKinnon books they had each read. To her surprise, they actually were able to carry on an intelligent discussion. As a former homicide detective, Hunter had interesting insight about police procedure.
Fledgling hope stirred inside her. Perhaps this trip didn’t have to be days of long, awkward silences after all.
“You certainly know enough about that world. Both sides of it, actually—the inside and the outside of the criminal justice system. Maybe
you
ought to write a book.”
He stared at her for a moment, then he actually laughed. Kate almost couldn’t believe it! It was short and abrupt, but was definitely genuine.
“I can’t imagine anything more torturous. I’m no writer. It was all I could do to pass freshman English in college. Filling out my case paperwork was a nightmare.”
“Well, you could always collaborate with Wyatt.”
“Been there, done that. No thanks. After he finishes the book about Dru and Mickie’s murders, I think my collaboration days are over forever.”
“You don’t want to go back to being a cop and you don’t think you’re cut out to be a writer. What will you do?”
He sent her a sidelong look over his sandwich. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe I’ll just spend the rest of my life driving around the country helping damsels in distress.”
Was that a joke? She stared at him, unable to believe her ears. Hunter Bradshaw actually made a joke!
“Interesting career choice,” she murmured. “But I’m sure you can make a go of it. If you put out an ad, I’m sure you’ll have distressed damsels crawling out of the woodwork.”
Especially if you include a picture, one that shows your dark and dangerous side,
she wanted to add, but didn’t quite have the nerve.
“I’ll be sure to include advertising in my business plan, then.”
She smiled. “And if you need a reference, let me know.”
“Better wait to see if we actually accomplish anything on this quest before you make an offer like that.”
“We will. I have great faith in you.”
“Good thing one of us does,” he muttered, his features austere once more, with no trace of that fleeting lightheartedness.
Unsettled at his rapid transition, Kate turned to look out the window. They rode in silence for a few moments, but she thought it was a little more comfortable between them now.
Not
easy,
exactly, but getting there.
“I love this part of the state,” she said after a few more miles. “The hoodoos and the mesas and the slickrock. It’s like we’re on another planet from the high mountain valleys of northern Utah.”
“I haven’t been this far south for probably five or six years. I’d forgotten how raw and primitively beautiful the desert can be in the winter.”
“Taylor and I drove down to Moab to mountain bike a few times during med school.”
“Really?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Every time I saw the two of you, you had your noses stuck in medical school textbooks. I wouldn’t have thought you would make time for a vacation to shred up the slickrock.”
“We weren’t completely obsessed,” she said with a laugh. “We took time away from studying when it was for something really important, like mountain biking.”
“You’ve been a good friend to Taylor,” he said after a moment.
“She’s been good to me,” Kate said simply. “I’m glad she’s going back to finish her last year of med school. It’s been so wonderful these last few weeks to have the old Taylor back.”
“What do you mean,
have her back?
”
She regretted her words as soon as she uttered them but it was too late to backpedal. She picked her next words more carefully. “You know how she’s been since your arrest. She was driven before as a medical student—both of us were, that was the big link between us. But when she switched to law school to help with your appeal, Taylor went beyond driven.”
“She was obsessed with the case. You don’t have to sugarcoat it.”
“
Obsessed
is a strong word and I’m not sure it’s the right one, but she didn’t allow much room in her life for anything else.”
“For anything but trying to bail out her jailbird brother.”
The bitterness in his eyes pierced her like a lancet. “No,” she said firmly, earnestly. “Trying to right a terrible wrong. Trying to save the life of an innocent man.”
He didn’t say anything for a few more miles. She was just about to ask if he wanted to listen to another CD when he finally spoke.
“What about you?” He made his voice quiet, deceptively casual. “Did you think, like everyone else, that I was guilty as hell, that Taylor was wasting her time?”
“Never. Not for one single moment.”
The vehemence in her voice stunned him enough that he shifted his gaze from the road to look at her. He saw no dissemination in her columbine-blue eyes, no hint of doubt. Only pure trust, absolute certainty.
He jerked his gaze back to the road, his mind barely registering the passing yellow lines under his tires. “How could you be so sure? You barely knew me. My closest brothers on the force thought I was guilty.”
Men he had worked beside, would have taken a bullet for. Of all the crushing betrayals of the last thirty months, that had been the worst, that more police officers hadn’t been willing to stand with him.
“They all thought I did it,” he went on. “How could you be so sure I didn’t?”
She paused so long he finally looked at her again. What had he said to put that light blush across her cheekbones? he wondered.
“I saw you with Dru,” she murmured. “Even though you were angry that she refused to marry you after she found out she was pregnant, you still treated her like fragile, priceless glass.”
“The prosecution would have said that was all the more reason for me to be furious when I found out she was cheating on me, when I found out the baby wasn’t mine. All the more reason for me to kill her in a jealous rage—because I had been a blind, besotted fool.”
“Whatever Dru did—no matter how she treated you—you never would have hurt her. And you absolutely would never have done anything to harm that baby.
Never
.”
That solid, unwavering faith shook him to his core, somehow managed to sneak under all those hard, crusty protective layers he had worked so hard to build these last thirty months. The cold, hard knot that had been tangled around his heart, his lungs, eased just a little and he almost thought he could breathe just a little easier.
Except for Taylor, he had felt completely alone in prison. Even Taylor’s unwavering support had been small comfort, he was ashamed to admit. As his sister, she was supposed to believe in him. He had both needed and expected her faith in him.
Kate definitely wasn’t his sister but she had believed in him, too. He shouldn’t have found the knowledge so achingly sweet.
But he did.
Hunter was quiet for a long time after she uttered her fervent declaration, so long Kate wondered if she had embarrassed him by it.
Maybe she shouldn’t have been quite so ardently enthusiastic in her support of him. She couldn’t help it, though. She was so
angry
at what had been done to him, first by that bitch Dru Ferrin and then by the system of justice he had risked his life day after day to uphold.
The miles ticked by and for a long time she stared out the window watching dark clouds scud by above the desert, moving even faster than they were. Finally, she turned back to her book but she found it much harder to concentrate than she had earlier. She was relieved when Hunter stopped the SUV on the outskirts of Moab to fill up again and let Belle out.
Their first pit stop earlier in the day set the pattern for this one. Once more they worked as a team—Hunter pumped gas while she found an open space to exercise Belle for a few moments.
This time, though, when they finished she offered to drive again. To her surprise, he agreed.
The SUV handled even better than her little Honda, she was pleased to discover. Kate took off heading south while Hunter, big and rangy in the seat next to her, leafed through her CD collection for several moments.
She waited, curious as to what he might pick. Music was one of her passions and her collection was eclectic and extensive. Most men she dated tended to favor her blues or classic-rock CDs but she had to admit to some surprise at Hunter’s ultimate choice—Dianne Reeves, one of her favorite jazz vocalists.
“I saw her in concert once at Red Butte,” he explained at her raised eyebrow.
They listened in silence for a few moments while she adjusted her driving instincts to the SUV’s bigger frame and longer braking time. By the third song, she glanced over and was further surprised to find Hunter’s eyes closed.
At first she wondered if he might be feigning sleep to avoid making conversation, but after a few moments of the steady rise and fall of his chest, she was certain he was genuinely asleep.
This was nice, she thought. Driving along through harshly beautiful scenery with a gorgeous man sleeping in the seat beside her, while soft jazz kept her company.
Not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon at all.