“Cady, I wondered if I would ever catch you here. I always seem to arrive after you’ve come and gone.”
“How did you know I’d been visiting?” she asked.
Lucia nodded at the headstone. “You always clean off the dust and dirt. Rusty’s is the cleanest headstone in this graveyard.”
“Oh. He was always so messy. I was constantly cleaning up after him. Guess it’s habit.”
“I know what you mean,” Lucia said with a smile. “Rusty was ten years younger than me, the son my parents never thought they would have. They doted on him. He got used to my mother picking up after him.”
Lucia narrowed her gaze, staring at Cady. “You blame yourself for his death. Is that why you never come and visit us?”
Cady swallowed heavily and wiped her sweating hands against her jeans. She’d grown up in foster homes, she didn’t have any family of her own so Rusty had often brought her home to his family for the holidays when they didn’t have to work. Cady had been reluctant at first, not wanting to intrude, but the Riveras were a force to be reckoned with. They’d practically adopted her.
“It was my fault. He wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for me.”
Lucia placed a hand on her hip. “Wasn’t it his job to go after the bad guys, to back his partner up?”
“We should have waited for back-up. We shouldn’t have gone in by ourselves.” But she’d raced in and Rusty had been the one to pay. Bullets had flown, hitting Rusty in the chest, his blood gushing in a thick, crimson river.
Cady swallowed back her bile.
“Wasn’t it a domestic disturbance call out? You had no idea it was a meth house,” Lucia said.
“Yeah, but Rusty had a bad feeling. He called in for back-up. I heard a woman scream and I couldn’t hold back. I went rushing in when I shouldn’t have. He followed me.”
“You forced him to follow you inside?”
“Of course not.”
“So my brother was just willing to stand on the sidewalk and listen to a woman scream in pain?”
“What? No, he was right behind me.”
“Close enough to tackle you to the ground if he’d wanted to keep you from going inside? You’re tough, Cady, but he outweighed you by a good sixty pounds. My brother never did anything he didn’t want to. There was no way he would have stood by while a woman was being hurt and you and I both know it. Tell me, then, why are you continuing to blame yourself?”
Cady knew there was truth to her words. But she wasn’t quite ready to let go of the guilt.
“I guess it’s easier this way,” she whispered. “I don’t have to let anyone get close.”
Lucia took a step forward and placed her hand over Cady’s arm. She was a beautiful woman, the lines on her face only adding to her appeal.
“Rusty wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up like this, Cady. He loved you. You and I both know that if he was here right now he’d be kicking your ass for the hell you’re putting yourself through. My brother died doing what he thought was right. The last thing he would want was for you to give up your life as some sort of penance. Move on, you know that’s what he’d want.”
Cady shuddered. Yeah, Rusty would kick her butt for the way she was acting. He’d hate the thought of her on the streets again. He’d known what her childhood was like, he’d have understood that she was shutting herself off to protect herself, didn’t mean he would have put up with it.
“I expect to see you at our place for Sunday dinner,” Lucia said firmly.
“Actually, I can’t.” The other woman’s face grew thunderous and Cady continued quickly before that famous Rivera temper could be unleashed. “I’ve been offered a job. In Dallas. I’m not sure when I need to leave.”
Or if the job offer was still open.
“Well, all right, then. But I expect you to come by for dinner if you’re still here. Promise me.”
“You’re as stubborn as your brother,” Cady said with a smile. “I promise.”
***