Brody shook his head. “As you said, I can be an ass.”
“Young men aren’t the brightest.”
“I sure was not.”
Jim stared at Jo as if seeing her with fresh eyes. “No signs of tension between you two at the crime scene.”
“She’s a class act. A lady to the end. Not in her to be anything but professional.”
“Second chances aren’t impossible. You sure look like you wouldn’t mind one.”
Brody watched Jo move to the buffet table and study the selection of foods as if making a life-altering decision. That was Jo. Methodical. Smart. Careful. “I burned that bridge a long time ago.”
“Rebuild it.”
Brody muttered an oath and something about needing another beer.
Jo had begged off another dance from Santos, crying hunger and fatigue. She stood with her plate of freshly cut cake, watching Jim and Lara dance. She was glad for them. They’d struggled but had found a way to make it work.
She bit into the cake, marveling at how good it tasted.
“Cake good?” Brody said as he came up beside her.
She presented her best professional smile. “If I had to confess a fault it would be that I love cake.”
Brody studied her. “I figured you as the perfect healthy eater. Lean protein, vegetables.”
“I am. Unless I’m offered vanilla cake with a vanilla buttercream. And then I am helpless.”
“I never knew that about you.”
The offhand comment caught her by surprise. “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other.” She took a bite. “I haven’t heard anything on the case in the last couple of days. What’s going on?”
“I been meaning to get up with you on that but been running full tilt. This might not be the place to get into it.”
She dropped her half-eaten cake in a trash barrel. “Now is as good a time as any. I called the prison. Smith is in a coma.”
He raised a coffee cup to his lips, halted and lowered his voice. “We had a second victim.”
The laughter and the music around her drifted away. “When?”
“Several days ago. Found at a construction site. Handcuffed and buried.”
“Who?”
“A prostitute. We think the killer was one of her clients.”
“There was no mention in the media.”
“We’re keeping a tight lid on the story. The newspaper is how Smith and Robbie communicated the last time.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Brody’s gaze held no hint of apology. “The order was that no one know.”
Jo was angry with Brody for not telling her. “I thought I was a part of this investigation.”
Brody shook his head. “This is my case, Jo.”
As much as she wanted to argue, she thought about the suffering this latest victim must have endured. Any grievance over how Brody handled this case felt trivial in the face of such pain. And still . . .
After a heavy moment of silence, Brody said, “Lara and Jim look happy.”
She wouldn’t let this tragedy or her wounded ego spoil a rare and wondrous day like today. “Yes.”
He cradled the coffee cup in his hand. “A far cry from our wedding day.”
She stiffened and glared up at him as if he’d confessed a sin. She wasn’t sure if the subject change was meant to distract her from terrible news or stoke her temper.
Brody arched a brow. “You look shocked. Think I forgot that day?”
“No. I didn’t think you forgot. But it’s ancient history.” She grabbed a second piece of cake.
He stared toward Jim and Lara dancing a slow dance. “Not so long ago.”
“Fourteen years. A lifetime.”
Brody sipped his coffee. “It wasn’t the best time for us. For me.”
Anger and sadness that had been so neatly tucked away rose up. “No.”
He was silent for a moment. “I owe you an apology, Jo. That last time all those years ago . . . I was immature. Out of control.”
“You were a dick,” she said. Normally she censored her thoughts better, but he’d caught her by surprise.
“That about sums it up. I was a dick. Said things that I never meant.”
A sigh shuddered from her. “If you never meant it, why say it?”
“When I got the call you were in the hospital, I’d been out with my teammates drinking. We were celebrating my joining the Marines—my solution to our marriage and baby. When the nurse told me you’d miscarried, I was mad. Sad.”
Bitterness pulled at her. “You looked furious from what I remember.”
Apologies didn’t come easy for him. “I was ashamed. I was a poor excuse for a man.”
She faced him, her anger rising. “You accused me of not caring about the baby.”
“You were cool and contained, and your mother had just reamed me out in the lobby. I came in swinging. When I saw how pale and fragile you were, I got madder at myself. I dumped that anger on your head.”
Jo shook her head.
“I told my old man about what happened, and he threatened to put his foot up my ass.”
She’d dreamed about this apology for years, and he’d dropped it right in her lap. Over the years she’d imagined herself delivering the perfect line or having a witty response. She made her living using words, and right now she couldn’t find any to string together.
She knew enough about men, Rangers especially, that they were a proud lot. It had cost him to apologize and there had to be something in that. “Okay.”
He raised a brow. “That’s all?”
“For now, yes.”
“Sure you don’t want to take a swing? Call me another name?”
“I’ll take a rain check, just in case.”
The muscle in his jaw tightened and released. “That’s fair. Be nice if we could find our way to being friends.”
“I don’t know.”
The sharpness of his gaze mirrored the look he’d had at the crime scene. Laser sharp.
She shook her head. “Don’t turn me into one of your puzzles, Brody.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are trying to figure me out like you try to figure out a killer when you’re at a crime scene. I saw that look the other day.”
His expression neutral, he didn’t respond.
Suddenly, the words came to her. “You were curious about me when we first met all those years ago because I was different than the average gal hanging around the baseball field house. Now I suspect you are curious how the fourteen years have changed me.”
“Nothing wrong with curiosity.”
She laughed. “No. It’s what makes you a great Ranger.”
He cocked his head. “But . . .”
“Once you have your answers you lose interest altogether. You lost interest in me long before I miscarried. And I suspect once you figure me out this go-around, you’ll lose interest in our friendship.”
His frown deepened. “I’m not the same guy I was in college.”
“I can see you’ve grown up. You’re not the boy who craves tons of recognition and false compliments. I do see that. But we are who we are. You solve puzzles. That makes you a great Ranger. But I suspect it makes you a lousy friend/lover/husband.” A weak smile tugged at the edges of her lips. “Let’s be grateful for the civility we’ve managed and not worry about developing anything closer.”
The penitentiary nurse stared at Smith’s ashen face. She’d dealt with prisoners for more than twenty years. For the most part, she could handle herself fine and when she couldn’t she called a guard. But Smith was different than the other inmates. He’d been charming. Always complimented her. At first she kept her guard up and her cool reserve in place. But he kept on being nice. And after a time, she found herself looking forward to his visits. She’d been warned about revealing any personal information to prisoners. Knew they could use it against her. And she had been careful around Smith. What she’d never counted on was his keen ability to
observe.
When he’d first seen her three years ago, she’d been nine months pregnant with her son. She’d seen him one time before she’d gone on maternity leave. When she’d returned, he’d congratulated her on the birth of her child. She thanked him but had made no other mention. But he’d seen the blue ribbon peeking out from a present she’d unwrapped from a coworker. He’d noticed when she’d stopped wearing her wedding band after her divorce. Noticed that she’d lost weight when she’d reentered the dating world.
He collected all those bits of information and pieced them together until he knew more about her than she’d ever dared imagined.
Last month, when she’d been giving him his injection, he’d told her he needed a favor done. She’d told him she didn’t do favors for prisoners. He’d not gotten angry or flustered, but he’d smiled and asked about her son, Ethan. Hearing him speak her boy’s name had rattled her.
“I need a favor,” he’d said.