Beth Andrews - Unraveling the Past

“My office,” Ross said, leaning down, both hands on her desk as he crowded her against her chair. “Now.”

He straightened and stepped back far enough to give her room to stand. Her expression set, her movements stilted, she rose and walked ahead of him out of the room and down the short hallway.

“Take a coffee break,” he ordered Donna as he passed her desk.

She looked from him to Layne then took her purse out of the bottom desk drawer. “Sure thing. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Ross followed Sullivan into his office and closed the door.

No sooner had the latch clicked shut when she whirled on him. “I’ve already apologized for my unprofessional behavior,” she said through barely moving lips. “And I don’t appreciate you treating me with such a lack of respect. Especially in front of my coworkers.”

“Is that so?” he murmured, taking her in. Her arms were straight, her hands clenched. He had to give her credit. She didn’t give anything away. She met his gaze steadily, no guilt, certainly no remorse on her face.

But she would regret lying to him.

“Yes.” She raised her chin, revealing a thin silver chain around her neck. “That’s so.”

He thought of the shorter piece of chain attaching the heart charm to her sister’s key ring. Remembered how, when he’d first shown Layne the necklace found with the remains, her hand had gone to her throat. At the time he’d thought it an innocent gesture.

Fury had him closing the distance between them in two long strides but he didn’t let it rule him. He never let his emotions rule him.

Still, his expression must not have been as calm as he’d thought because her eyes widened. But she held her ground. “What do you think—”

“You don’t appreciate being treated with a lack of respect?” he repeated. “Well, I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

He hooked his forefinger under her necklace and tugged it free of her shirt.

And discovered the same heart Tori had on her key chain.

An exact replica of the smaller hearts from the necklace they’d found with the remains.

* * *

“WHAT THE HELL is going on?” Taylor growled. He smelled of coffee and mint. Her necklace was wrapped around his finger and his knuckles brushed against her collarbone. His skin was warm. His tone cold enough to make her shiver.

To Layne’s horror, tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She found herself wanting to tell him everything. Her fears and suspicions. Not because she was afraid of him or worried about the safety of her job or her professional reputation. Although, she realized with a jolt, she should fear for both.

She wanted to share her burden with someone. Or better yet, let someone else take care of things for her.

Which was so unlike her she almost pinched herself to see if this whole crappy experience wasn’t some nightmare.

She was the strong one. The responsible one. She’d stepped up and taken care of her family when her mother bailed. Had given up her childhood to ensure Tori and their younger sister, Nora, were safe and cared for. She’d protected them. Always protected them.

But, oh, God, she wanted, badly to be the one taken care of. Just one time.

Pressing her lips together, she jerked back and for a second, she didn’t think he’d let go. But then he eased away, letting the charm fall back to bounce once against the top button of her uniform.

“Nothing’s going on.” Her tone betrayed none of her uncertainty, her guilt. “It’s a coincidence.”

At least that’s what she’d been trying to convince herself of all morning.

“You and your sister both have charms identical to the necklace we found with a set of human remains. Remains you and I are both very aware could belong to the victim of a violent crime, and you want me to believe it’s a coincidence?”

“Yes.”

He regarded her intently, trying to get a read on her. Just like a good cop did when talking to a witness.

Or a suspect.

“Then why not mention it earlier?” he asked.

She shrugged, trying to make the gesture casual but figured she looked like she was having a seizure. “I meant to…” Even someone who valued honestly above all else could be forgiven for a little white lie every so often. “But I didn’t see any point.”

“Where is it?”

“Where is…?”

“Captain, what did you do with the evidence I gave you earlier this morning?”

Offended, she narrowed her eyes. “What do you think I did with it?”

But she knew. He wasn’t worried she’d accidentally lost or misplaced it. Oh, no, he thought she’d hid it. Or destroyed it.

“Where is the necklace?” he repeated sharply.

“Processing has it.”

As soon as she’d handed it over the guilt weighing on her shoulders had lightened. Yes, it had taken her a few hours to make the right decision but when push came to shove, she’d done the right thing.

He circled his desk. Picking up his phone, he glanced at her. “Sit down.”

Her mouth went dry. If she had to endure his calm, controlled reprimand accompanied by one of his subzero looks, she’d do it how she did everything in her life. On her own two feet. “I’d rather stand, thanks.”

Except he didn’t go with the iceman routine. Instead his hot stare just about blistered her skin.

She sat. And disliked him even more for being unpredictable.

He dialed a number. “Officer Campbell,” he said into the phone, but kept his eyes on her, “I need you to go down to Processing and check on the status of the evidence found at the quarry.”

Her face burned. Anger and resentment sizzled in her blood. He had no right to treat her this way, as if she couldn’t be trusted. She’d made a mistake. A mistake she planned on correcting at the earliest convenience.

And here she’d thought that, after being chastised for fighting with Tori, she couldn’t possibly be more humiliated.

Man, she hated being wrong.

Hated even more that, like what happened with her sister, this was her own damn fault. She’d dug herself a deep, smelly hole and now she had to figure out how to claw her way out.

Tapping her fingers against her knee, she checked out the office. The furniture—two wooden chairs facing a metal desk, a banged-up, four-drawer filing cabinet and a bookcase—were left from Chief Gorham. The freshly painted beige walls were bare. A lamp, two neatly stacked piles of folders, a mechanical pencil and a coffee cup the only items on his desk. There were no framed commendations or knickknacks. No nameplate. No personal photos, not even a snapshot of the niece who was living with him—and what was up with that?

The room was like Taylor himself. Unreadable. There was nothing to give a person any type of clue as to what—if anything—went on beneath the chief’s starched surface.

Being a good cop means being able to keep your personal life and professional one separate.

Maybe he was a damned good cop. But he obviously had a few things to learn about being an actual human being.

“You’re sure?” Taylor asked Evan. “You saw the necklace? Not just that it had been entered into the evidence logbook?” Pause. “Good.”

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