“Probably not. He tends to avoid anyone associated with the Brockmans, in any way.”
“What for?”
“It’s a long story.” And not one she was going to share. That was his story, and it wasn’t her place to gossip. “But…it has to do with his scar. He almost died because of his association with the Brockman family. He hasn’t fully healed yet. But he’s…better.”
“You trust him at your back?”
“In a heartbeat. No questions asked.” That was something she could say with utter certainty.
She’d figured that man out, after all. There was a core of honor in Dr. Allan Knight, too. A code. One that told her no matter what the rumors about him were…She could trust him.
With her personal safety, anyway. Maybe not her virtue though.
As if she'd conjured the man with her thoughts, the small office door opened and there he was. He'd lost the suit jacket that he often wore like armor. And the tie. She loved it when he went around with his sleeves rolled up and the top buttons open like that.
Yes, he was one of her favorite PAVAD agents to look at.
From a distance.
"Anything?" he asked.
"I'm looking for Aimee's Blackberry and her day planner. I saw it was logged in to evidence for shipment to us here, but it hasn’t been sent to St. Louis yet. I think our dear Ward is going to make another day trip to Indiana very, very soon. I want to confirm some things Hailey told me." Miranda's fingers landed on the Blackberry and she pulled it, plastic evidence bag and all, from the file box. "Here! Have our techs pull off of it what we can."
"We have a digital copy on a CD," Pierce said, his own ridiculously muscled arms crossed over his broad chest. “I think I’ve seen copies of it before.”
“Well, guess that’s where we’re going to go next, isn’t it?”
She put it in the box. It would be making a handy trip to St. Louis, just as soon as she could get it there. Ward was going to be so happy to hear from her.
Chapter 14
Bryan hadn’t slept well for a few days. He kept having nightmares about the Gibsons. The blood. He’d seen the bloodstains after. He’d tried to scrub them up himself back then, before he’d given up and called an actual crime scene cleanup team out of Indianapolis. Sometimes, he still remembered how his hands had turned red from the soapy water and…the blood.
Damn it. He’d known where that innocent little boy had died. He remembered that bloodstain every time he passed that spot on the stairs in that damned house. The wooden floor, the carpet runner, the drywall he’d repainted himself. The nightmares…those stains were ghosts he just couldn’t escape.
He had kept that to himself—Cass was extremely sensitive to violence and always had been. Since she’d been sexually assaulted when she’d been nineteen. Before Bryan had first met her.
It had taken a long time for her to trust him not to hurt her back then. The loss of the Gibsons had hurt her. Deeply. She and Aimee had served in the nursery at the church together. They had been friends, too. Aimee had fussed over Cass a bit, during her first pregnancy. Helped her get through.
No one had ever understood how someone could murder an innocent family like that. People in town, on social media, they had all speculated like they were off of CSI or something. Speculating motives and theories. Saying all sorts of things about Derek and Aimee that Bryan had just known were lies. Derek and Aimee…they’d been good people. They hadn’t deserved what had happened to them at all. They just hadn’t.
Cruz and Terra definitely hadn’t. Bryan would always remember those kids’ names. Their faces. They’d always greeted him when he’d stopped by; Derek preferred to hand over the rental check every month personally. Hell, Bryan had always just suspected Derek had liked having someone to shoot the shit with, while the kids played. Bryan had always ended up staying there a little longer than he’d intended, just talking with the other man. Or they’d do something to the house. Or Derek would help with some of the other houses Bryan owned in the neighborhood. Or…they’d end up helping the neighbors, too. Even if Bryan hadn’t owned those houses. Derek would ask, and Bryan would help. It was what good people did.
They took care of each other. The way it was supposed to be.
Terra…Terra had always wanted to play with B.J. back then, at church and things. She’d treated him like a little doll. Bryan had never forgotten that.
He liked kids. He always had. He and Cass had four, and God willing, they’d grow up to give them grandkids someday. He’d been a little older than most people around here when he’d finally married. Bryan would be an older grandpa, but he was going to make the most of it.
He hated that Derek and Aimee wouldn’t have the same. Someone had stolen that from them. And it wasn’t right.
“Daddy, you’re like all broody again,” his daughter said. He had three boys and one girl. That girl ruled the house, no denying that. She was looking at him like he was a bug—from those big blue eyes she’d gotten from her mama. Cass and Asa—they were his heart and soul. His boys, too. “What’s wrong?”
“Just memories, mostly. The FBI are in town. They are investigating what happened fifteen years ago.”
“Yeah, Mom told me they were here. It’s really cool that the FBI is here. Maybe they’ll find out what actually happened. What if there’s a killer walking among us?” Asa was thirteen. She was into everything almost morbid. She’d binge-watched CSI-type show episodes for years. He’d drawn the line at her watching some of the other things out there—some of them were damned dark and too much, even for him. Bryan didn’t want to focus on the bad in the world.
He far preferred the good.
