Cross Her Heart (Bree Taggert #1)(15)

“I know,” Matt agreed. “But Justin isn’t your father, and Erin wasn’t your mother.”

“You’re right.” She lifted her coat from the back of the kitchen chair. “But the facts remain the same, and Justin looks damned guilty.”

He blocked her path to the door.

Irritation crossed her face and one eyebrow arched.

“Do you want him to be guilty?” he asked.

She exhaled and met his gaze. The thing he’d liked best about her was her no-bullshit attitude. She did not play games.

“No,” she said. “The kids already lost their mom. Knowing their stepdad killed her would make matters even worse for them.”

He’d expected her to be honest and direct, but her answer surprised him. “I’m not sure the chief deputy will look for other suspects.”

“He won’t find what he isn’t looking for,” Bree finished.

“I think we should work together.” He held up a hand. “Let me explain. You would put Justin at the top of your suspect list. I’d put him at the bottom. We both want to solve your sister’s murder. You know your sister and your family. I’ve known Justin since grade school, and I have the local connections.”

Plus, he had absolutely no doubt Bree would be working the case, and he didn’t like the idea of her chasing a killer alone. She could be the best homicide detective in the world, but she needed someone to watch her back. As did Matt. She was also smart and, he suspected, very good at her job.

She squinted at him. “You want to find Justin before the sheriff’s department does. Are you afraid they’ll shoot him?”

They shot me, so yeah.

But he chose his words carefully. “I want to know the truth.”

Her lips pursed. “So, our goal is the same, but our motivations conflict.”

“Yes. We balance each other, and our chances of success are better if we put our heads together.”

She snorted. “That makes sense in a weird way.”

“So, you’ll work with me?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Fair enough,” Matt said. “Take my number.”

Bree pulled her phone from her pocket and entered the numbers as Matt gave them to her. A second later, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at the screen. She’d sent him a text.

“Let me know when you’re ready to go to the ME’s office,” he said.

Her eyes misted. “I will.”

Their eyes met for a few seconds. Was she thinking that the ME was probably conducting an autopsy on her sister at that moment? As a detective, she knew what all that procedure entailed.

Her chin came up, and she blinked to clear her eyes of any unshed tears. No. Matt knew she wouldn’t allow herself to wallow in the negative. She’d focus on finding who had killed her sister.





CHAPTER SEVEN

Bree didn’t remember the drive to her brother’s place. Her mind was on her discussion with Matt. But suddenly her Honda was bouncing down the dirt road that led to the converted barn Adam had lived in ever since he’d barely graduated high school. He was one of the smartest people she knew, but his intelligence wasn’t conventional, and he’d despised school. His graduation was one of the rare life events that had pulled Bree back to Grey’s Hollow.

The barn sat in the middle of a large, snow-covered meadow. Adam’s ancient Ford Bronco was parked out front. The lane had not been plowed, and Bree crossed her fingers that her car wouldn’t get stuck. She made it to the end, parked, and climbed out into the cold. There were no trees to break the wind, and it whipped snow dust across the emptiness. For a couple of seconds, she turned her face into a freezing gust, wishing it would numb her emotions as well as her skin.

What would she say to them? How were the kids handling their grief? How could she support them when she couldn’t even handle her own emotions?

The front door opened, and a tall, gangly figure stood in the doorway. At first, Bree thought it was her brother. But he stepped outside, and the light fell on his face. It was her fifteen-year-old nephew, Luke, who appeared to have grown several inches since she’d seen him in August. He suddenly looked more like a man than a boy.

His body might be maturing, but his eyes were all lost-child. Bree walked toward him without thinking. Her arms went around him. His body shook as she held him.

“Who is it?” a small voice asked.

Luke was taller than Bree now, and she had to move her head to see her niece. Kayla’s eyes were red and swollen, her face pale and blotchy. Bree opened one arm to include her in the embrace. The three of them stood in the doorway, with Bree blocking the wind.

When she pulled away, her face was wet. She wiped her cheeks and scanned the kids. Physically, they seemed fine. The damage was only visible in their eyes. But she recognized the look as a reflection of her own pain, a sorrow that would never heal.

“Where’s Uncle Adam?” Bree asked.

Luke jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “His studio.”

Bree herded the kids inside. Snow had blown across the threshold. She kicked it outside with her foot and closed the door. The interior of Adam’s place was one big room. A king-size bed stood in one corner, with a kitchen, sofa, and TV on the opposite side of the space. A partial wall separated his studio from his living quarters.