Janice Kay - The Closer He Gets

“You’re a gardener,” he said, gazing out at a backyard that, like the front, wasn’t very big but was bound to be a profusion of cottage-garden bloom in another couple months. There was color even now, mostly from daffodils and crocuses and a shrub with vivid yellow blooms. She seemed to have a lot of rosebushes.

“I am,” she agreed. “It’s my hobby. I especially love antique roses. There are moments I wish I had a way bigger yard so I could grow more of them, but I remind myself how much maintenance what I have takes. I don’t want gardening to quit being fun and start being work.”

“I know what you mean,” he agreed. “I just bought a fixer-upper to flip.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“I’ve remodeled a couple before,” he explained, “and made a decent profit when I sold them.”

“Really.” After adjusting the heat on a stove burner, she leaned back against the counter. “You know I’m in the home improvement business.” She waved at the bar stools. “Have a seat.”

Because he wanted to ease into his real purpose, he asked a few questions and learned she didn’t just work at Fabulous Interiors, she and a partner owned it. Her area of specialty was window treatment and ceramic tile. Her partner, flooring. The partner was a man—she called him Greg—but Zach couldn’t get a feel for whether the relationship was business-like, friendship or romantic.

He was irritated at himself for even wondering.

“What got you started flipping houses?” she asked. Pretty obviously, she was sounding him out the same way he was her.

So, okay, he could give a little.

“I had a stepfather who was a contractor.” Actually the stepfather whose name he’d taken. “I worked for him summers during high school and college. That’s not what I wanted to do for a living, but I enjoy working with my hands.” He shrugged. “It’s a good hobby.”

She glanced ruefully toward her garden. “Except you actually make money at your hobby.”

He had to laugh. “Mostly. When too many problems don’t turn a house into a sinkhole.” After a pause he asked, “Are you a local?” This was edging a little closer to what he really needed to know. How woven into the fabric of this community are you? Can I depend on you not to buckle under the pressure?

He hoped she hadn’t noticed his stomach rumbling. He’d try to get out of here before he embarrassed himself.

“Yes and no. I graduated from high school here, but left for college. I came back three years ago because my dad is in poor health. Mom is gone...and I thought he needed me.” She huffed. “Not that he agrees. He’s determined to stay in his house. And although he finally let me hire someone to do the housework, he still insists on doing too much.”

“Heart?”

“Stroke.” Grief shadowed her face. “It’s probably just a matter of time before he has another one.”

“I’m sorry,” he said gently.

“Thank you.” She turned back to the stove, giving something a stir before turning off the burner and pulling the pan off. This time, when she turned to face him, her expression was resolute. “You didn’t come to exchange gardening and home improvement tips.”

“No.” Zach moved his shoulders a little to ease the tension. “The department wants the ‘incident’ never to have happened. The two of us are an inconvenience.”

“I’ve noticed.” Her tone was dry. “Should your department be investigating when it’s one of their own officers accused of a crime?”

“No,” Zach said bluntly. “My guess is some of the pressure is being applied now in the hope the department doesn’t have to hand off the investigation to someone else. Which, in my opinion, should have happened immediately.”

“Well, it definitely hasn’t been. Detective Delaney—excuse me, Delancy—grilled me two ways from Sunday. And then he stopped by the store again today. He seems to think if he keeps circling back, I’ll either change my story or he’ll get me to admit that Antonio and I were having a torrid affair and I’m lying through my teeth because—who knows?—I’m protecting his memory. I haven’t a clue.”

He nodded. “Ms. Granath, I won’t ask you what you’ve told him, and I’m not going to tell you what I’ve said, either. It’s easy to be subconsciously influenced once you share what you saw with other witnesses.”

She nodded. “That makes sense. Please, call me Tess. You’re Deputy Carter?”

“Zach Carter.”

Her gaze became challenging. “Are you here to lean on me a little, too? Point out how much damage I’m doing to an upstanding officer’s career?”

One side of his mouth tipped up. “Never crossed my mind. I will tell you that Andrew Hayes is an ass.”

Her carefree laugh came out of the blue, considering what they’d been discussing. “In that case, unless you’re expected home for dinner, you’re welcome to share mine. It’s chicken in a wine sauce on brown rice.”

“It smells amazing.” Damn, he had to swallow his saliva. “Are you sure you have enough?”

Eyes hinting at amusement, she said, “Positive.”

He asked where he could wash up and she sent him to a half-bathroom connected to a small laundry and mudroom.

Tess had produced a salad by the time he returned to the kitchen. She’d set the small table by the French doors rather than the larger one in the dining room. Bright red tulips in a simple white pitcher sat in the middle of the table. A few petals had fallen.

“These were already in bloom?” he said in surprise.

“Oh, I doubt it. I assume they were forced. Truthfully, I bought the bouquet at the grocery store. I spoil myself by buying some occasionally through the winter. I grow daffodils and tulips, but not enough for cutting.”

They served themselves then looked at each other across the table. “I guess I kind of stuck you with company, didn’t I?” he said ruefully.

Smiling, she shook her head. “I wouldn’t have invited Deputy Hayes to stay for dinner if he’d dropped by. Or Detective Delancy.” Her green-gold eyes met his. “Do you know him very well?”

“No. I’m new with the sheriff’s department. I haven’t even finished my third week. I moved up from Portland.”

“What brought you away from the city?”

Zach hesitated. He should have thanked her for the invitation but then declined. He’d have to make it clear to her before he left that they needed to keep their distance from here on out—at least, until the review and trial. And that could be a very long, drawn-out process. Just the prosecutor’s decision to file charges—or not—could be six months or more away.

He was attracted to her, but shutting down anything like that wouldn’t be a problem. Yeah, they had some interests in common, but didn’t share anything close to the same underlying motivations. He liked turning a dump into a house, but not because he was creating a home for himself the way she obviously had.

As far as women went, he enjoyed sex, but only when it came with no strings. Nothing in his life to this point had made him even distantly imagine himself ever getting married. He rarely had a relationship—if you could call it that—that lasted longer than a couple months.

An alliance was what they were building, one that would ensure justice was done.

“I lived here in Clear Creek until I was nine,” he said abruptly. “Then my parents split up and...” He shrugged. “I’ve gotten to an age when I needed to figure some things out.” Like who raped my little sister and then strangled her.

“Oh.” Tess’s expression softened. He was pretty sure she wasn’t thinking anything close to what had happened. “Do you still have...? I mean, are your parents alive?”