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I sighed and sank down onto the edge of the bed. “I know. I guess I was just hoping to find some answers myself before I gave it to them.”
“You know,” Smith said, “Ryeland just opened his security firm in DC.”
“Really?” I looked up then. Matt Ryeland had retired from our SEAL team a while back. He was a good guy. Trustworthy.
“Yeah. Maybe you should get ahold of him and have him help you do a little digging into this Elijah Harris guy. See if you can put him in Harpers Ferry on the night of the murder.”
“Okay. I will. Thanks, sir.” I sat back and rubbed my eyes. “Any word on my extended leave yet?”
“I’m working on it right now, actually.” Smith’s voice rang with the self-confidence that seemed a natural part of him. “The rest of the team is still willing to donate leave, if it comes to that, but we’ll see what the brass says first. Don’t worry about it. You’re covered either way. We’ve got your back.”
“Thank you.” The stress of this situation was exhausting, and it was nice to hear that at least there was one piece of it I didn’t need to worry about. I started to end the call, but Smith stopped me.
“Have you been to the cemetery yet?” he asked.
Fuck.
“No.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “With everything else going on, I haven’t had time to even think about it yet.” Not a total lie. I had been busy. “But I’ll go, as soon as I get a chance.”
“Hmm.” Smith sounded skeptical. I couldn’t blame him. “You’re full of shit, son. Seriously, go. It’ll be good for you, I promise.”
“I will.”
We’d just finished the call when Charlotte knocked on the door frame and stuck her head into the guest room. “Savannah’s out like a light,” she said, smiling. “Being with my mom wore her out, I think.”
“Having met your mom, that’s understandable,” I joked, even though I wasn’t quite feeling like laughing right then.
“Mind if I come in?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said. “It’s your house.”
She sat down beside me on the bed and I caught the faintest hint of vanilla. It made me want to lean closer to her and drink it in but I forced myself to keep my distance.
“What are we going to do now?” she asked.
I told her about my conversation with my CO and his suggestion to contact Matt. “I think he could help us dig up more information on Harris. I really think we need to connect him to the night of Alexis’s murder before we go to the cops. Otherwise, seeing as he’s law enforcement, they might not take us seriously. We need all the pieces to fall into place before we make our case to them.”
“Agreed.” She sighed. “We need everything to be airtight.”
I glanced at Charlotte and saw the strain on her face. She was doing her best to keep it together but there was no hiding the haunted look in her eyes. A murder, a baby, a forced entry and what amounted to a stranger living under the same roof would probably break the average woman, but there was nothing average about Charlotte. Hell, the woman could probably run boot camp.
Which is why I found it so strange that my protective instinct went into overdrive every time she was near me.
ELEVEN
Ithought she’d scurry away after cementing our plan but Charlotte never ceased to surprise me. Her tentative perch on the edge of the bed slowly shifted until she was curled up like a cat at the end of the it. Far enough away from me that I could control myself, but close enough that I didn’t want to.
It felt so easy, talking with her. She caught me up on the town gossip, and before long we were laughing like we didn’t have a care in the world. The tension in my shoulders unfurled every time she smiled at me. We were doing that thing …banter. Like we were on a date, even though we both knew how far from the truth that was.
“So,” I said, taking off my boots before stretching out my legs on the bed, my back against the headboard, “what’s a nice girl like you still doing on the market?” I gave her a quick smile. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that. I just…”
She laughed. “It’s fine. Honestly, I just haven’t had time to settle down. I figure there’ll be time for that later, after the tavern’s more profitable.”
“Hmm.” As someone who’d purposely avoided getting tied down for years, I knew the lie when I heard it. Still, it wasn’t my place to push, so I didn’t. We sat there a while in silence before she continued.
“I don’t know,” Charlotte said, running her hand along the comforter and avoiding my gaze, a slight frown knitting her dark brows together. “Sometimes I think my dad screwed me up pretty bad.”
My chest ached at her words. Growing up in a small town, I knew about her family situation, though we’d never talked about it. Now, in the soft glow of the lamplight, everything felt different. We were being real with one another.
