Tracey V. Bateman - Reasonable Doubt

As their eyes met, memories rushed back to him on a wave of yesterday’s dreams. This was the girl he’d loved for the first fourteen years of his life. The one he very well might have married if things hadn’t gotten so fouled up.

The way she stared at him, he could imagine she was having similar thoughts. She cleared her throat. “So…”

“Listen. I don’t expect to talk about the good old days.” Justin gave her a lopsided grin.

“Good. It’s probably better for us both to keep our past friendship out of this whole situation.” With a heavy sigh, she plopped into the chair next to the fire and kicked her legs up to the ottoman.

“I didn’t do it.” Suddenly, it became very important that Keri believe him. And whether they discussed the past or not, it was there…simmering on the edge of both of their minds. If she remembered him at all, she just couldn’t believe that he’d take a life.

“Look, Justin. It’s not my job to determine whether you’re guilty or not. It’s my job to take you in if a warrant has been issued. If your boys weren’t with you, I’d handcuff you to something to make sure you don’t run. I’m trusting your integrity to keep you here.”

“I already told you. I’ll let you arrest me if you have to.”

A spark of the Keri he remembered returned in the stubborn jerk of her chin. She leveled a stern gaze at him. “I don’t need you to let me take you anywhere. I’m a trained officer of the law and if I say you’re going in, you are.”

Justin’s eyes flickered over her petite frame and he couldn’t resist the grin tipping the corners of his lips.

Anger sparked Keri’s eyes. She shot to her feet and leaned over him, filling the air between them with the combined scents of peach-scented soap and wood smoke. “Listen, Kramer, don’t test me. I don’t want to cuff you unless it’s absolutely necessary, but I will if you force my hand.”

He could see she was dead serious, and it only struck him funnier. Laughter started low in his throat and, try as he might, there was no stopping it.

Red splotches appeared on her neck and freckled face, and sparks shot from her green eyes. “Stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, fighting for air. “You’re just…so cute.”

“That does it.”

Before Justin could contain his mirth and take charge of the situation, Keri sprang into action, twisted his arm to the side and slapped the cuffs on one wrist. In practically one motion, he found himself with one hand cuffed to the wooden arm of the couch. Keri stood over him, breathing heavily, but smug with victory. Her hands rested on her slim hips, and she raised her brows, her green eyes daring him to laugh now.

Anger bit into him like a vice. “All right,” he ground out, “you’ve made your point. Let me go.”

Her shoulders rose and fell with an exaggerated sigh. “You know what? I’ve been up for more than twenty-four hours. I went to work early yesterday because a drunk wrapped his truck around a telephone pole and nearly killed a group of kids. I sat listening to that same drunk whine about his rights all night while I tried to get paperwork done.” She stretched, then covered a wide yawn. “Then just when I was about to head out and start a much-needed vacation, I find you on Krahoney Road—suspiciously, I might add. So I think I’m within my rights to handcuff you until I know if you’re running from an arrest warrant.”

“Well, I’m sorry to add to your stress,” he drawled, “but I’m the one they’re accusing of murder.” He scowled. “Wrongfully!”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Let me go, Keri. I don’t want the boys to see me like this.”

“You know my dad will make dozens and dozens of donuts and donut holes. Your boys will be glazing for hours.” Keri grabbed a crocheted afghan from the chair and tossed it over his arm, concealing the metal constraints. “Perfect. I’m going to go and shower, then I’ll probably take a nice long nap. If you behave yourself, I might release you when I get back.” She threw him a victorious grin and sauntered away, leaving him scowling after her.

“You know, you’re stomping all over my civil rights! I could sue you!”

“Go ahead,” she called over her shoulder. “The line forms behind Junior Connor.”

Whatever that meant. Defeated, he twisted around and swung his legs over the side of the couch. It felt good to stretch out after several tension-filled hours in the car. He adjusted the afghan so that it covered his arm and shoulder, then spread it over the rest of him. Relaxing in the toasty warmth of a wood fire, Justin closed his eyes. He felt his chest rising and falling in slow even breaths just before he drifted away into the precious comfort of sleep.

Keri leaned into the shower’s spray, resting her hands flat against the tiled wall. She winced. Partly from the blast of hot water and partly from the memory of her encounter with Justin. She’d taken him completely by surprise, but what if he’d been ready for her? Would she have been able to take him?

The thought frustrated her and filled her with self-doubt. What kind of chief of police would she make if she couldn’t even arrest a prisoner just because he had ten inches on her and a good fifty pounds?

And blue eyes to die for.

Still…despite the same charming grin and sincere eyes, she didn’t really know him anymore. He might be anything. Even…well…a murderer.

The problem was that her heart didn’t want to believe it. She wanted to believe that the devastatingly good-looking man of her dreams, who seemed to be a wonderful father to boot, was everything she remembered. And more. The dismal reality was that he could quite possibly be a sociopath who’d murdered his wife, felt no remorse, and could probably pass ten lie-detector tests, all the while planning his next murder.

She shuddered, even as her heart rejected the notion.

The water went from too hot to freezing by the time she soaped up, rinsed off, washed her hair and grabbed a towel. Shivering, she dried off and dressed in comfy sweats and headed for the door. When she stepped into the hall, the aroma of fried donuts drifted between the wooden walls, beckoning her toward the kitchen. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep herself from peeking at Justin as she walked through. He was stretched out on the couch, the afghan discreetly covering the handcuffs.

A lump formed in her throat at the sight of him, sleeping peacefully, like a man with nothing to hide. She snorted and turned. Or a sociopath with no conscience!

Willing away thoughts of Justin, she pushed through the kitchen door and stopped short at the sight of the two boys working diligently to glaze a batch of cooled donuts while her dad stood, back to them, lifting more from the boiling grease.

Billy popped a donut hole into his mouth, licked his fingers, then glanced up. His guilt-clouded eyes widened when they lit on Keri. Silently, she lifted her brow, attempting a stern expression of reprimand. He held out a donut, hung by one sticky finger, and pressed the other index finger to his lips.

An obvious attempt to buy her silence.

Pretending to consider the proposition, Keri rested her hands on her hips for a second, then she looked him square in the eye, winked and nodded. She reached for the goodie. Hesitating only a moment at the thought of how many times the kid must have licked his fingers without being caught, she nevertheless took a bite.

“What are you doing, Keri-girl?”

Keri jumped at her dad’s voice and she stopped chewing, hiding the rest of the donut behind her back.

“What kind of example is that setting for the boys?” he demanded. “Stealing donuts right out from under my nose?” The twinkle in his eyes belied his tone, but Keri played along for the twins’ entertainment.