His Brother's Bride

“Be careful, it’s probably not safe.” Scott followed her, though. It was unlikely they’d find anything; chances were good that Dennis Arnett had never even ventured over there, the place was in such bad shape.

Just as Scott suspected, the only thing they discovered was that the house was in sore need of renovation. Even the grass was dead. If he closed his eyes he could follow Laurel’s progress around the yard by the sound of the dried grass crunching beneath her feet.

He saw her bend over and pick up something.

“What’d you find?” He walked over and peered over her shoulder. It was the closest he’d been to her all morning.

“Nothing,” she told him, holding out what looked like part of a ring from a gumball machine.

She was right. It was nothing. The prize possession of some child who’d once played in this yard.

Obviously disappointed, she dropped the piece of toy jewelry back where she’d found it. Her finger was smeared with dirt.

Leaning forward, Scott took hold of her finger with the edge of his shirt, wiping it off.

He pretended not to notice when her knuckles brushed against his belly, though he didn’t know whom he was pretending for. They’d both felt her fingers there.

“All clean,” he said, backing away from her, glad she was willing to play along. They had to pretend there was nothing wrong between them. They had business to do. Much more important business than the two of them and their messed-up lives.

If he never breathed the scent of lilacs again as long as he lived, it would be fine with him. Standing there next to her, determined not to feel anything, he was damned pissed that lilacs even existed.

In that brief, awkward moment, Laurel looked at him. He could see the stress lines around her eyes and wished he had the right to soothe them. To ease her troubles.

He wished he had the right to do so much more.

After an almost silent trip out to Leslie’s, they searched her yard, as well, keeping a careful distance from each other.

And when they found nothing, they crossed the street to see if Katy had any news for them. Scott’s attempt to time things so that Katy’s girls would still be asleep had failed. Within seconds of answering the door, Katy had both of them playing around her feet, making it very difficult for the adults to talk.

Not that Katy had anything new to tell them.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I think the girls are missing Leslie. Every time the doorbell rings, they think it’s her. She’s great with them and they’re used to her being here for lunch fairly often.”

The toddlers were attempting to play some rendition of dress-up—at least that was Scott’s guess, based on the odd assortment of attire they were wearing—and when they started to fight over their accessories, a plastic bracelet specifically, he and Laurel excused themselves and left.

Scott couldn’t remember ever being more happy to make an escape.

* * *

“WE NEVER HAD LUNCH.” Laurel made the pronouncement as she climbed out of the Blazer back at the motel more than an hour later. Arnett had not shown up for his appointment with his parole officer, so Murphy was going to follow up on the hospital calls and check the morgue before he officially put out an APB on the man. He was going to call as soon as he’d done so. “Why don’t I go for something while you go inside,” she suggested. “You said you have some calls to make.”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Scott tossed her the keys, allowing himself a small, appreciative grin that he hoped she wouldn’t notice. He wasn’t used to having his thoughts anticipated. And no matter how good it felt, he wasn’t going to get used to it. The domesticity of the whole thing struck him as ludicrous under the circumstances—yet oddly natural, too.

Laurel returned the grin, and Scott hurried inside.

He called Maureen immediately, and she took the news of Dennis’s recent connection with the Nevils better than Scott had expected, especially in light of the fact that both Owen and Arnett appeared to be AWOL at the moment.

There was nothing to indicate that Owen Nevil was not on a hiking expedition as reported, she and Scott decided.

Scott could have been speaking with any number of his colleagues, if not for the hint of vulnerability in her tone. There was no doubt this was personal for Maureen. Her livelihood, her very life might depend on this case.

She asked if there was anything she could do. And then, as though thinking out loud, remembered her inability to do anything. She was an innkeeper, she told him. Nothing more. Scott had a feeling she was convincing herself more than him.

She still had her babies to keep safe, she reminded him. This scare had shown her that more clearly than ever before.

Just before ringing off, she begged Scott to keep her posted.

* * *