Tracey V. Bateman - Suspicion Of Guilt

He glanced at Mahoney House. A curtain dropped as though someone had been watching him. Denni? He smiled, but dismissed the likelihood. It was a nice little fantasy to boost his ego, anyway.

Two hours later, he was on his way back to the Mahoney House with a borrowed portable pump and a generator in the back of his truck.

The electricity should be off by now and he had Jack’s word that he’d turn it back on tomorrow evening. Reece wasn’t helping out just to be a nice guy. This was also his way of spending time with the girls in their own environment. Something he’d never had the chance to do before. Maybe he could earn their trust. And someone would start talking.

The added bonus was the time he would spend with Denni Mahoney. His throat constricted at the thought. From their first rocky meeting, he’d been attracted to her despite the circumstances. With round eyes the color of melted chocolate, sweet perfume, shiny hair and soft curves, she was the embodiment of beauty and femininity. Alluring enough to warm a man’s blood, yet innocent enough for him to picture her in a white wedding gown carrying a bouquet at the same time.

The memory of her eyes flashing with anger when she defended the girls made him grin. She was spunky to boot. He was determined to find the person responsible for trying to thwart her dream. So far, trying to be the hard-edged cop hadn’t drawn out the saboteur. Maybe it was time to turn on the charm.

Peeking from behind the burgundy drapes hanging at the living-room window, Denni felt her heart jump at the sight of Reece’s truck pulling into the drive.

In a way, she wanted to ask him, “Hey, what part of ‘no’ don’t you understand, buddy?” But mostly, she wanted to throw her arms around him and thank him for taking matters into his own hands and not accepting no for an answer.

“What’s he doing back here?” Leigh’s voice next to Denni arrested her attention, pulling her from the vision of flying into Reece’s well-muscled arms.

“Looks like he decided to help us clean up whether we like it or not.”

Leigh headed for the door—all bad attitude and body language. “Want me to get rid of him?”

“No, don’t be rude. He’s doing us a favor.” Just why he was doing them a favor, she didn’t know. But she wasn’t opposed to figuring it out.

“I think it’s sort of sweet.” Denni turned at the soft sound of Cate Sheridan’s voice. The girl waddled across the room, her eight-months-pregnant belly leading the way.

“Sweet?” Leigh sniffed. “Those hormones are definitely affecting your brain. The guy’s been on our backs for months accusing us of robbing Denni. Now he’s blaming us for a flood. And you think he’s sweet?”

“Crazy, isn’t it?” Cate grinned and elbowed Denni. “He sure is a hottie, don’t you think?”

Warmth flooded Denni’s cheeks. It was one thing for her to consider Reece a good-looking man in the privacy of her own mind, another for the girls to notice. She rolled her eyes and tried to recover some dignity. “I’m too old to think ‘hottie’ when I see a guy.”

“Yeah, right.” Leigh’s voice held no humor.

Cate nudged Denni again and said in her best Southern drawl, “Ya might be old, honey. But ya ain’t dead.”

Denni couldn’t hold back a laugh.

Obviously seeing nothing funny about the whole situation, Leigh swept over them both with a glare. “Just remember this particular guy is out for my blood, Denni. Don’t let him charm you into suspecting one of us.”

Denni turned to the girl, and her heart softened at the worry darkening Leigh’s black-lined eyes. “Leigh, I know you had nothing to do with any of the things that have happened around here. And it would take a lot more than a great-looking guy with big muscles to make me believe any different.”

“You say that now. But you don’t know guys all that well, Denni. My mom used to run off with every charmer that came along until he’d dump her, then she’d take up with another one. And my mom isn’t a stupid woman. These guys are good talkers. Believe me, they know how to get what they want from a woman. Especially one as nice as you.”

Three sharp raps on the door stopped Denni from pursuing the conversation. Leigh rarely talked about her biological mother. Perhaps she was almost ready to open up. But with Reece standing in the doorway, Leigh’s entire demeanor spoke of belligerence and the polar opposite of cooperation. Denni knew there would be no getting the girl to talk today.

“What do you want, Corrigan?” Leigh demanded.

“It’s all right.” Denni moved forward quickly in an effort to avoid an unpleasant scene. “I understand you’re to thank for getting the electric company to shut off the power for us.”

He gave a modest grin and nodded as he stepped inside. “I overheard Miss Sommers mention your luncheon on Monday.”

“Eavesdropper,” Leigh accused.

“Yes,” Denni said firmly. “And thanks to his eavesdropping, we can get the basement cleaned up and perhaps pull off the luncheon without all ten churches deciding not to sponsor us.”

Muttering words that burned Denni’s ears and never failed to make her stomach churn, Leigh spun around and stomped out of the room.

The detective watched her go, his lips twisting into a sarcastic grin. “She’s going to have to stop throwing herself at me. It’s getting downright embarrassing.”

Cate giggled. “It would definitely be a cold day—”

“Cate, will you please go up and let the other girls know we’ll be starting on the basement soon?”

Denni shook her head. Living with a group of girls who held to no strong faith, and who had pretty much seen and heard it all, definitely presented its challenges. With the exception of Rissa, all of the girls attended services only as part of their requirement for living at Mahoney House. Rissa had found a true commitment to Christ last year.

Working to place children in foster homes for the past ten years, Denni had met caring families who provided loving, nurturing environments. The kids in those homes were the lucky ones. The children she was most concerned about were the others: the leftovers whose foster parents cashed the checks and spent them on their own pleasure, without providing properly for the children they had agreed to take in, the kids who fell through the cracks when they turned eighteen and the government stopped paying for their upkeep, at least as foster children. Many grew to adulthood and ended up in the welfare system, continuing a cycle of poverty and neglect.

Denni knew she couldn’t fix the whole problem, but for five girls she was making a difference. At least she believed she was. Each was either in college or, in the case of Cate, taking online courses. Each had a part-time job as well and a mountain of hope for the future.

If she could pull off the luncheon Monday afternoon, perhaps there would be room for twenty more girls. Two houses, larger than the four-bedroom Victorian home she currently owned, each providing a home for ten, plus a house mother of sorts. Denni would then serve as a paid coordinator for all the houses.

She wanted it so badly she could taste it. Like a craving for milk chocolate or veal parmesan with sauce and gooey mozzarella cheese. It just had to be God’s will.

“So, the girls…”

Detective Corrigan’s voice brought her back to the moment. The proverbial fly in the ointment. This guy’s suspicions could blow everything sky-high. She had to find a way to convince him to point his investigation away from the girls.

Denni watched him as his gaze perused the five eight-by-ten photographs arranged on the mantel above the stone fireplace.

“What about the girls?” Defenses raised, Denni narrowed her gaze and geared up for a fight.