“Are you sure you want Nate’s furniture?” Damaris asked looking around. She’d insisted on helping Jedidiah move. Not that she had a lot to move. “It’s not bad but it’s kind of masculine.”
Jedidiah laughed. “It’s free, it’s here, and it means I don’t have to furniture shop. I love it.”
“Okay,” Damaris replied doubtfully. “You can always add your own touches to it.”
“You mean, like,decorate?” She’d traveled a lot before, and besides, she wasn’t a nesty-type person, so her apartment had never contained much more than the basics. Well, and her books, which they were unloading, and were, in her opinion, a necessity. In fact, she’d brought books, clothes, a few keepsakes, and not much else with her, having sold her own furniture without regret.
“Sorry. What was I thinking?” She started laughing, ignoring the dirty look Jedidiah sent her. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
Oh, yes, she had. “Not in that respect, no. But if I stay, I might buy some furniture and kitchen crap. Although Nate left that too. At least, I think he did.”
“You didn’t even look, did you?”
Jedidiah shrugged. “Why would I? Kitchen crap is kitchen crap. It’s got a microwave and that’s what I use most of the time anyway. And I brought my coffee maker with me.”
“I know exactly what kitchen crap Nate left and you’ll be lucky to find more than one pot, one pan, a little bit of silverware, and some hideous glasses and dishes he bought at a garage sale.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Damaris shook her head. “Jedidiah, why did you come back to Whiskey River? The truth.”
Jedidiah was a lot better at keeping things to herself than sharing. But this was Damaris, who was not only her sister, but the closest thing she had to a best friend. At least since Noah had died. And Noah had been a man, after all. Sometimes only another woman would do. Maybe she’d feel better if she told Damaris what had gone down. The grief counselor she’d seen had tried her best but it hadn’t helped much. Nothing had. Which was one reason she’d quit the agency and moved back to Whiskey River.
“Something bad happened, didn’t it?”
“Yeah.” What the hell. She stopped unpacking the box of books and looked at her sister. Not talking hadn’t helped. Maybe talking would. “Before I tell you, promise me you will keep this to yourself.” She thought about that and added, “Okay, you can tell Nate but no one else. And he can’t tell anyone either.”
“You don’t want the family to know?”
“No. And I probably shouldn’t tell you.”
“Want me to pinkie swear?” Damaris asked with a smile.
“I’m serious, Damaris. Swear to me you won’t talk.”
“Of course I won’t. But what in the hell is it?”
“What do you know about my job?”
“Not much more than you worked with computers.”
“I did. But that wasn’t my only job.” She laughed without humor. “I was an undercover agent.”
“Oh, right,” Damaris said and started to laugh. One look at Jedidiah had her abruptly sobering. “Oh, God, you’re serious. You worked undercover? For who? The police?”
She shook her head. “Not the police. For a secret government agency that’s connected to the DEA. I can’t tell you any more about it than that.”
“An undercover agent. That’s just…freaky. No wonder you were always so cagey about what you did.”
“I couldn’t tell you. Or anyone who wasn’t involved with the agency.”
“Why did you quit?” She paused and added, “You did quit, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Shortly after your wedding. I’d been working a desk for the last couple of years because my last undercover mission was a disaster.” Closing her eyes, she saw Noah. Bigger than life. Never at a loss. Pushing, always pushing to get the bad guys. Until the bad guys got him. “My partner…died. I would have too but he made me get out. Made me leave him.” There was nothing she could have done for Noah and she knew it. If she’d tried to intervene she would have died too. “As it was, I barely got out with my life.” She left it at that, not telling her sister that Noah had also been her lover. Much more than a partner. But she still didn’t feel ready to share everything.
Damaris was staring at her with her mouth open. “Oh my God, Jedidiah. I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard.”
“It was…horrible.” She ran her hand over her forehead, trying to stop the images. But a murder was not something a person could forget. Especially when a loved one had been the victim. Jedidiah had never felt more helpless in her life, knowing she was leaving Noah to his likely death. To this day she questioned whether she could have done anything to stop what happened. At heart she knew she couldn’t have. And Noah had told her he could stand anything, except for her dying too.
