Shirlee McCoy - Defender for Hire

“I’m not most people.”

“Apparently not, because most people would be happy to give me the information that I need in order to help them,” Logan said as he settled into a chair.

“I am happy to give you the information. It’s just...things are complicated.” She turned away from the men and pulled mugs from the cupboard. “Would either of you like coffee or tea?”

“I’d rather have answers,” Logan replied.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, willing her voice to remain steady as she pivoted, nearly bumping into the rock-solid wall of Seth’s chest.

He stood just inches away, his coat open to reveal a blue button-down shirt tucked into black pants. He must have come from work to deliver the envelope.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked quietly.

She almost told him that she did, but he’d gone out of his way to help her and she couldn’t bring herself to send him away. “Whatever you want to do is fine.”

She moved past him and sat across from Logan. “My husband was murdered five years ago today.”

Logan stiffened, but he didn’t speak.

Tessa knew he was waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t know what else to say—how much to reveal, how much to keep hidden.

“I’m sorry, Tessa.” Seth broke the silence, his tone gentle, his eyes the color of the sky at dusk—deep azure blue, and almost glowing in his tan face. There was something in those eyes, something that she’d lost so long ago she’d stopped believing she’d ever find it again.

She blinked, and whatever she thought she’d seen was gone.

“We were missionaries to Kenya,” she said. “An insurgent group attacked the village we were ministering to. Twenty people were killed or wounded. Daniel was one of casualties. So was his brother, Andrew.” Five years of recounting the tale had given her practice saying what needed to be said, but the words still made her throat raw and her chest tight.

“Why didn’t you mention this before?” Logan jotted something in a small notebook.

“I didn’t think it mattered.” Didn’t want to think it mattered, anyway. She pulled her hair from its ponytail and gathered it back in, keeping her hands busy so she didn’t give herself away.

“Everything matters,” Logan said, jotting something else in his notebook.

She needed to tell him everything.

She knew she did, but the words were stuck.

She cleared her throat. “Then I guess I should tell you that the guy who attacked me asked if I remembered.”

Logan stilled, his face tight with irritation. “That’s a big piece of information to leave out.”

“She didn’t leave it out,” Seth responded before Tessa could. “She’s telling you now.”

Tessa didn’t need his support, and she should have told him that. But the truth was, it had been years since anyone had stood in her corner, and even though she didn’t want to admit it to herself, it felt good to have Seth there.

Plus, there were too many other things to worry about. Like trying to explain why she hadn’t immediately told Logan about the whispered words.

“Everything happened so quickly,” she murmured.

“I understand, but I need to know that I have all the details. Is there anything else I should know?” Logan looked up from the notebook.

Could she tell him about the roses?

Probably—the roses weren’t part of her secret.

“Every year someone brings me a black rose on the anniversary of the massacre. It’s been happening for five years, but there’s never been anything else.”

“Until today,” Seth reminded her.

“Until today,” she agreed.

“Did you get a rose today?” Logan asked, his expression grim and hard.

“I did. It was left on the hood of my car.”

“Do you still have it?”

She shook her head, her eyes hot and gritty. She was saying too much, but she didn’t know what else to do. “I threw it into the yard this morning.”

“Left or right of the driveway?”

“Left.”

“I’m going to see if I can find it, then I’m heading out onto the trail. Hopefully, I’ll be able to collect some evidence. Stay put until I come back.”

He strode from the room, his boots tapping on the hardwood floor. The front door opened, then closed.

Tessa went to the stove and lifted the kettle, pouring hot water into a mug and dunking a tea bag in it—and avoiding Seth’s eyes. He leaned against the counter, his arms crossed, his hair a little windblown. He looked good, and that wasn’t something she wanted to notice.

She yanked sugar from the cupboard and scooped two large spoonsful into her tea. “I appreciate your help tonight, Seth, but I don’t want to take up more of your time.”

“Is that a subtle dismissal?”

“I didn’t think I was being subtle, but you’re welcome to call it that.”

“Touché.” He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But before I go, how about you tell me the rest of the story? I know you’re holding back.”

An image flashed through her mind—blood pouring over her hands as she tried to staunch the flow. Daniel’s pale face and pale lips and dark, dark eyes. It was worth it, he’d whispered, and then he’d told her to go.

She closed her eyes, her head spinning.

Seth caught Tessa by the shoulders as she seemed to stumble forward. “You’d better sit down, Tessa.”

“I’m okay,” she said, but she didn’t look okay to him. “I told Logan everything. There’s nothing more to say.”

Seth pulled the envelope from his pocket and handed it to Tessa. “You didn’t tell him about this,” he said.

He didn’t think she’d look inside it. He probably wouldn’t have if he were in her shoes. Not in front of someone else. And not if he knew it was somehow connected to his past.

She smoothed her fingers over the flap, her eyes dark and troubled. “This I really did forget about.”

“Do you want to look inside before I give it to Randal?”

“I’d rather it just stay sealed.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve spent five years trying to escape the past, and whatever is in here will probably just tie me to it.”

“Only you can do that, Tessa.”

Tessa shrugged, a silky strand of hair escaping her ponytail. His fingers itched to brush it away.

He clenched his fists, surprised by the longing.

In the six years since Julia’s death, he’d dated a few women, trying to fill the aching loneliness that losing her had left. It hadn’t worked, and eventually he’d given up on the idea. He’d been happy with the decision, never doubting it even once.

Lately, though, he’d been yearning for the kind of connection that came from loving someone completely, from trusting her with every part of who he was.

“I guess I can’t put this off forever,” Tessa muttered.

Seth covered her hand before she could open the envelope. “Put these on first. We don’t want to contaminate any evidence.” He pulled leather gloves from his pocket and handed them to her.

“You’ve been carrying the envelope around all day. Do you really think there’s going to be any evidence on it?” she asked, but she slid her hands into the gloves.

“I’m not worried about the outside. I want to protect what’s inside.”

She nodded, sliding her finger under the flap and carefully opening the envelope. She pulled out a photograph, stared at it for a moment, her expression unreadable. “What is it?” Seth asked, leaning over to get a look.

She shook her head and shoved the photo back into the envelope before he could get more than a glimpse of three people standing near a mud hut.

“Just another reminder of things I wish I could forget. Can you bring it to Logan?” she asked, taking off the gloves and sliding them across the table. He shoved them back into his pocket.