A Breath Away. Rita Herron
she hadn’t returned before now?
VIOLET STUMBLED FROM BED, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, and groped for the afghan, pulling it around her shoulders. She could have sworn she’d heard someone knocking on the door.
A quick glance at the clock made her grimace. Six-thirty. She hadn’t fallen asleep until five. Even then, that woman’s cries had reverberated inside her head, tormenting her.
The pounding grew louder. Who would come out here this early? Who even knew she was here? Grady…
“Violet, I know you’re in there.” His gruff voice resonated with impatience. “You might as well open up.”
“Just a minute.” Pushing her hair from her eyes, she rushed to the door and opened it. “What are you doing here so early?”
He dangled a piece of paper in front of her. “Search warrant.”
She frowned but reluctantly stepped aside. Grady strode in, his big presence filling the small den. Still half-asleep, she found her body tingling traitorously, imagining he’d come for another reason.
Another officer followed on his heels, his gaze skimming over Violet. His attitude said he’d seen the ugly side of life and survived it. Maybe even liked it.
“Deputy Logan.” The man tipped a headful of wavy brown hair in greeting, although his taut mouth was unsmiling. And she couldn’t see his eyes; they were hidden behind Ray-Bans. They were probably as black as his mood, she guessed, clutching the afghan tighter around her shoulders.
“Go get dressed,” Grady growled. “We’ll start in the den and kitchen.”
Violet simply stared at him. She didn’t take orders from anyone. “Excuse me?”
“I said put some clothes on.” His icy gaze locked with hers. Any trace of the compassionate boy she’d once known had disappeared.
Heat suddenly blazed her cheeks. Anger at the fact that he had come on a crusade against her father followed. “I…I don’t know what you’re looking for, Grady, but you won’t find it.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You haven’t tampered with evidence, have you?”
Violet’s fingers dug into her arms. “Of course not.”
Suspicion flared in his eyes. “Did you know your father killed Darlene?”
Her lungs tightened at the accusation.
“Is that the reason he sent you away?” A strained heartbeat passed. “Did your grandmother know and keep quiet about it all these years?”
His cold tone cut through her like a knife. She staggered backward, then turned and ran to the bedroom to change.
GRADY BRACED HIMSELF for the onslaught of guilt that attacked him at Violet’s shocked reaction.
“Playing bad cop?”
He glared at his deputy. “I was just doing my job.” And trying to find out the truth.
Or were you trying to hurt her because you hate yourself for being attracted to her? For reminding you of Darlene every time you look at her?
“You going to charge her with accessory?”
Grady pivoted on his booted feet. “She was only eight when Darlene died.”
“But she could have come forward since.”
He nodded. He had entertained the idea. And he would charge Violet if he discovered she’d lied.
“Let’s verify Baker’s confession. Look for a handwritten note or bill so we can compare writing samples. Then we’ll discuss strategies.”
“Right.” Logan grunted. “Although she’s almost pretty enough to make a man forget the law.”
Grady’s jaw tightened. He might not want Violet, but he sure as heck didn’t like the lascivious way Logan had looked at her. “Stay away from her,” he warned. “A good cop never gets involved with a potential suspect. And he never forgets the law.”
Logan’s mouth twitched as if he was about to argue. Then he seemed to think better of it, turned and went to work.
Grady dismissed the odd reaction. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could get away from Violet. Then he could forget that he’d almost agreed with Logan.
But not at the cost of letting Darlene’s killer get away.
VIOLET TREMBLED INSIDE. She would never forget the look of accusation in Grady’s eyes.
It had been the same piercing look he’d given her twenty years ago when he’d stood outside her bedroom, waiting for her to tell them where to find Darlene.
Pressing her hands to her temples, she battled another onslaught of tears. She would not cry now. No, she wouldn’t give Grady the satisfaction of watching her crumble. Besides, she’d cried a river of tears the past two days, and it hadn’t helped. She had to be strong.
After all, she’d expected Grady to blame her for Darlene’s death because she’d begged her friend to come over that day. But she’d never imagined he’d believe she would protect the killer.
So why was she defending her father?
Because if he had evil inside him, then maybe she did, too…. Maybe he had been right about her. Maybe that evil was the reason she’d heard the woman’s cry.
Confused, Violet yanked on shorts, a T-shirt and sandals, then dragged a brush through her hair and scrubbed her teeth. The itch to run from this house and her father’s mess gnawed at her, but she couldn’t run away. Not without knowing the truth.
But what if Grady found something in the house? And why hadn’t she thought to look around last night after he’d left?
You were too shaken by coming home again. And by everything that’s happened.
Steeling herself against Grady’s anger, she went to the kitchen to brew coffee. The deputy was searching the den, while Grady was examining the pizza box, his eyebrows furrowed.
“The answer to your question is no, Grady. That confession note was a complete surprise.”
He glanced up, a flicker of regret simmering in his dark eyes before his mask slid back into place. “Did you and your father keep in touch?”
“We haven’t spoken in years.”
He nodded curtly, then scribbled some notes in a small notepad.
“Can I clean up this mess now and make some coffee?”
“Let me dust for fingerprints first.”
She stared at him, wondering where the kind boy she’d once known had gone. Had he died the same day Darlene had?
Well, she refused to stand here and watch him tear apart her house. She stalked out onto the front porch, more questions assailing her. If her father had killed Darlene twenty years ago and had brought her to the house, which Violet knew hadn’t happened, any evidence would be long gone. So why fingerprint the kitchen if he thought her father had committed suicide?
What exactly was Grady looking for?
GRADY WINCED AT THE SOUND of the screen door slamming, then frowned when Violet’s car tore down the graveled drive. As much as she might not want to face the fact that her father was a murderer, he had to know the truth.
She’d claimed she wanted that, too. But would she be able to handle it?
Would he, if he discovered his own father had something to do with Baker’s death?
Logan whistled as he scavenged through the desk in the den, bringing Grady out of his reverie with the location of a bill for signature comparison. Other than that, Baker’s house offered little in the way of clues, except the fact that Jed had been as depressed and lackadaisical