Stitched Up Heart (Combat Hearts Book 1) (31 page)

“She’d shoved the boyfriend so hard he rolled off the bed. Hit his head on the table and knocked himself out. Tim called 9-1-1 ‘cause the guy was bleeding. Our parents came home to a cop car and an ambulance in the drive.” His chuckle echoed in his chest. “Needless to say, she never babysat us again.”

“Did you get a whoopin’ that time?”

“Not that time,” he said. “A stern talkin’ to about safety and appropriate behavior, but our parents agreed she shouldn’t’ve had her boyfriend over. They just didn’t agree with our methods.”

“You got a lot of spankings, didn’t you?”

His chest rumbled again. “Yeah. Eventually our parents figured out the best punishment was to not let us see each other, so any time we got in trouble, we weren’t allowed to play together for a few days.”

She tilted her head back and rested her chin on his chest. “It sounds like you have a lot of good memories.”

He framed her face with his hands. “I do. Thank you for reminding me.” His kiss was gentle. “You hungry?”

She grinned. “For food?”

“What else do you think I have in the cooler?”

“Just checking.”

“Let me take you to my favorite fishing spot.”

He picked up the cooler and Bree gathered the blanket. Taking her hand, he led her a few yards away, closer to the pond.

They spread out the blanket and sat, digging into the cooler. Fried chicken, coleslaw, and a mixed salad ended up spread out between them. Charlie and Polly took up positions close by, panting and happy to be outdoors.

“Did you make all this?”

“Uh, no. I grabbed it at the store on the way to pick you up. I didn’t have time to make anything to bring with me. I thought about bringing some poles so we could fish, but didn’t want to chance not having dinner if the fish weren’t biting.”

“Good call. I’m hungry.” She winked at him and opened the container of salad.

“So, how did you get into physical therapy?” He took a bite of chicken.

She finished chewing her salad. “Whenever we’d med-evac guys out of country, I always wondered what happened to them. Did they make it? Did they recover? There were a couple of guys, kids really — probably couldn’t even buy a drink back home — who lost everything.”

She looked at her salad and pushed it around with her fork. “How do you get past that? How do you go forward when everything you know has been shattered?” She continued poking at her food. “I knew I wanted to work with veterans after I got out. I thought about going into psychology, but I wanted to help heal their bodies. So I decided on physical therapy. It’s not as long as medical school, and I get to work directly with ‘em.”

She looked back at Jase. “I had re-upped during that deployment, so I got as many prereqs out of the way as I could on Uncle Sam’s dime. Used my G.I. Bill for the rest of it when I got out.” She took a bite of salad, chewing without tasting it.

“You like it?”

“I love it. Nothing I’d rather be doing.”

He shifted so he was facing her, his legs spread wide, arms resting on his knees. “Can I ask you something else? About something you said that night.” His gaze was hesitant.

Shit. She didn’t remember half the things she’d said to him, but she swallowed hard and nodded. Polly whined, rose, and lay back down on the blanket next to Bree.

Jase reached over and scratched Polly’s ear. “I’d pretty much come to my senses right after you started, but something you said was like a punch in the gut.”

Her heart stuttered. “Jase—”

“It’s not bad,” he interrupted. “I needed it.” He took a breath and looked at Polly. “You said something about getting a call from your best friend in the middle of the night. Was that Denise?”

She looked down and nodded.

“What happened?”

She shook her head, unable to give him an answer. “It’s not my story to tell,” she said gently. “What I can tell you is this: if someone wants to commit suicide, they’re going to.”

“I just can’t help but think if I had picked up the phone that night…” He looked back toward Tony’s marker.

She set her salad aside and scooted closer so she could touch his face, turning him to look at her. “Don’t do that to yourself. You can’t blame yourself for what happened. Did he leave a message that night?”

He shook his head.

“So you don’t know why he was calling you. You don’t know what ultimately made him choose that path. If it wasn’t that night, it could very well have been the next. Or the next week. You have to remember that he was—
is
—more than his suicide.”

He gripped her hand, pressing it more firmly against his jaw. “Did you ever think about it?”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. Not in the sense of ‘everything would be better if I were dead.’ It was more…flashes. Seeing myself doing it in my mind. Not really having a conscious thought of killing myself. But it scared me.”

“What did you do?”

“I went to therapy. Talked to a couple of counselors until I found one I liked. She set me up with the program that gave me Polly.”

“I wonder if Tony would have gotten better if he’d had that kind of help.”

“I don’t know. But that’s one of the reasons I helped Denise start Wiggle Butt Rescue. Sprocket’s a therapy dog as well.”

Jase’s eyes widened. “That horse?”

“They come in all shapes and sizes.” She smiled. “So, how long do you plan on romancing me?”

He traced her bottom lip with his thumb, his hazel eyes serious. “Until you trust me again. Emotionally, with your heart.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he continued. “You were right when you said we were going fast. I didn’t have a plan. Figured we’d ride the ride and see how it played out. I got stupid. Did something to almost jump us off the tracks. I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

“You understand I wouldn’t have shared everything I did if I didn’t trust you, right? I love you.”

He moved fast, catching her off guard. His mouth was heavy, almost brutal in his possession. He took her down to the blanket and pulled her underneath him.

He lifted his head and stared down at her. “I love you, Bree.”

She lifted her head and found his mouth again. Tasting him. Branding him. Possessing him as much as he possessed her. The ringing of his cell phone startled her, and she pulled away with a gasp.

“I’m ignoring it. It’s just us right now.”

The phone stopped ringing, only to start again immediately.

“Maybe you should answer it,” she said.

“Damnit.” He raised up onto his elbow and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. He glanced at it before swiping his thumb across the screen.

“What?” His tone angry, impatient. “What?” Worry crept onto his face. “Yeah. She’s right here. Hold on.” He held the phone out to her. “It’s Tim.”

She took the phone. “Hello?”

“You weren’t answering your phone. Figured I’d try Jase,” Tim said.

“It’s in Jase’s truck. What’s wrong?”

“There’s been another attack.”

She put her other hand over her eyes.
Oh god, not again
.

“Wait.” She dropped her hand to Jase’s upper arm. “You said attack, not murder.”

“The girl’s roommate came home early and found her. EMS was able to stabilize her and get her to the trauma center.”

“There was another note?”

“Yes.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

She tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. Jase’s fingers threaded into her hair, brushing it away from her temple. She took strength from the calming, repetitious movement. Polly whined low next to her.

“Bree, can you come in again? The investigators would like to ask you some more questions.”

“We’re supposed to go camping tomorrow.”

“You can come tonight. Or first thing in the morning before you leave,” Tim said.

“I’ll call my lawyer. See if he can meet me tonight.”

“Okay.” He paused. “Bree.”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

“I will,” she whispered.

She gave the phone back to Jase. She curled into him and felt his chest rumble as he talked to Tim. Polly took up position next to her.

“Yeah… It’s late. I’m going to tell her to set it up for the morning… We aren’t leaving until around noon… I’ll let her know… She’s staying with me tonight.”

She nodded her head against his chest.

“See you then.” She heard the phone thump against the blanket. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back, the gentle strokes soothing her. Tension slowly eased from her neck and shoulders.

“We can go back to your house so you can get your stuff, or we can just go in the morning,” he said.

“I need to get the dogs’ food.”

“Tonight, then.” He continued to rub her back. “We’ll figure this out.”

She wanted to believe him; she did. But it was hard to imagine someone killing anyone for her. Because of her.

B
ree picked at the skin around her nail, pacing in the small conference room. She knew enough to look for the small camera in the corner, close to the ceiling, when they’d been escorted in. No stereotypical one-way mirror, but they didn’t need it when whoever was watching had live video.

The door opened, and Detective Johnson entered. “Thank you for coming in again, Brianna. We just have a few questions.” He sat on the far side of the table.

“I’m not sure why my client needed to be here again. She’s as much a victim in these killings as the women being attacked,” her lawyer said.

Bree pulled out the chair next to him. “Mr. Dell, please don’t compare a few notes to these women being murdered. It’s inappropriate.”

Mr. Dell tried for a stern look. “Bree—”

“Don’t. I’m here to help and answer any questions I can. This has to stop,” she said. She looked at the detective. “What do you need to know?”

“Do you know this woman?” He slid a photo across the table.

Using a finger, she slid it closer. She shook her head. “No. She doesn’t seem familiar at all.” She slid the photo back across the table. “How is she doing?”

“She made it through surgery. She’s in ICU. The doctors said if she makes it through the next couple of days, she should recover.”

Bree nodded and looked at her lawyer. “You’ll make sure everything is taken care of.”

“Bree—”

“Make sure she’s taken care of.” She tapped her finger on top of the table.

Her lawyer exhaled a heavy sigh.

“That’s very generous of you,” the detective said.

She gave him her attention. “No. It’s not. These women are being attacked — being killed — due in some part to me. So making sure this girl and her family don’t have to worry about anything while she recovers is not generous.”

She held Detective Johnson’s gaze. He had to understand. No one else could die because some whack-a-doodle had fixated on her. “What else do you need from me?”

“When was the last time you had contact with Chad?”

“A few weeks ago. He came to my house and we got into an argument.”

He wrote some notes on the pad in front of him. “What was the argument about?”

“He accused me of ruining his life because I wouldn’t marry him.” She rubbed the middle of her forehead with two fingers. God, she was tired.

“How did the argument end?”

She braced her elbows on the table and gripped the back of her neck with both hands. “Jase threw him out.”

“Jase is Jason Larken? Officer Larken’s brother?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you known Mr. Larken?” he asked.

“Five or six weeks, I guess.” She sat back in the hard-backed chair.

He nodded and wrote more notes. “When did you meet?”

“The night I caught Chad cheating on me.”

“How did you meet?”

“At The Deck.”

“Was that the first time you met Mr. Larken?”

“Yes.” Bree tilted her head and squinted her eyes a little. “Why are you asking me about Jase?”

He raised his pen from his pad and looked her in the eye. “We’re just exploring every possible angle.”

Bree laughed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t laugh, but Jase has nothing to do with this.”

“You seem very sure of that.”

She gave him a patient look. “I am. Jase had no idea who I was when we met. We had a one-night stand and I took off. It wasn’t until I went unknowingly to his office that he learned my full name and where I worked. Not only that, we were together the night the first woman was killed.”

“So you don’t think there’s any way Jase could be involved in these killings?” he asked.

Bree leaned forward again and folded her hands on the table. “Detective, the kind of man Jase is, if he was going to kill anyone because of me — for me — it wouldn’t be these women. It would be Chad.” She gripped her fingers tightly and pressed her hands into the table. “I don’t know why these women are being killed, but I guarantee I want it to stop more than you do. If I thought for even one minute Jase had anything to do with these murders, I would tell you.”

Detective Johnson leaned back in his chair, threw his pen on the pad, and sighed. “We’re at a loss.” His tone changed. Less courteous. More honest. “The only connection we can find between you and the victims is Chad, but he can account for his whereabouts for all the murders.” His stare was steady. “We thought you looked good for it, initially.”