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“I already started, but I’m waiting to gather more information from forensics.” Brook used a second oven mitt and was able to carry the glass dish of lasagna into the dining room. She carefully placed it on the large potholder that she’d placed on the table when she’d arranged their place settings. “I don’t even know their cause of death yet, and that makes all the difference dictating which direction I take the profile.”
Brook had already made the garlic bread and made sure to cover the basket with a small cloth napkin. With everything in place, she gestured that he should take his seat. He didn’t immediately sit down, but instead pulled her chair out so that she could be the first to sit at the table.
And there went her relaxed stance.
Talking business had allowed her to treat this as an ordinary meal that she might have had with one of her team members. Graham pulling out her chair took this evening into intimate territory.
She pushed aside her unease as she murmured her appreciation.
“I apologize for the scenery,” Brook muttered as she gestured toward the dining room wall. She removed the silverware from the cloth napkin before unfolding the soft material and spreading it across her lap. “It’s not exactly a relaxing sight.”
“You could always put a Christmas tree in front of it,” Graham suggested with a bit of humor. She appreciated that he didn’t make the situation uncomfortable. Not a lot of people would understand her need for such a display. He was the first to grab the spatula and use the end to cut the lasagna into pieces. He then served one to her before filling his own plate. “Not big on decorations?”
“I’m just not here long enough to enjoy them. I take you aren’t decorating, either?” Brook passed him the garlic bread. “You haven’t been home for a week, and you were traveling quite extensively before that.”
“I managed to put up both Christmas trees right after Thanksgiving.” Graham must have caught her surprised expression, because he laughed. She was usually better at hiding her reactions. “You heard that right. I have one in the formal living and a smaller one in my office. Christmas was Kelsey’s favorite holiday.”
Kelsey had been the name of his daughter. He spoke about her differently now that her killer was rotting in the lowest pit of hell. Graham’s words, of course. Brook had been meaning to ask about Austin Ridley, the man who had been wrongfully convicting of Kelsey Elliott’s murder.
“How is Austin doing? Last I heard, you mentioned that he was working with his father. Are they still running a construction company?”
“Austin has decided to go to law school,” Graham replied as he poured them both a glass of ice water from the pitcher that she’d filled earlier. “He received a settlement from his wrongful conviction, and he’s using that money to pay his way through college. I have no doubt that he’ll be successful.”
Brook was grateful that Graham hadn’t pushed on the holiday decorations topic. It was hard for her to celebrate any holiday knowing that Jacob was out there hunting innocent victims.
Right now, he had his sights set on Sarah Evanston.
Brook pushed her brother to the back of her mind in order to stay in the present. She and Graham discussed many topics over dinner, although the one that had fascinated her the most was Graham’s view on fruitcake.
“You don’t actually eat it, do you?” Brook asked with incredulity as she sat down on the couch with a cup of coffee in hand. She and Graham had cleared the table, but she hadn’t allowed him to do anything more. She was well aware that he would have to leave soon, and he was going to need some caffeine for the long night ahead. “I had one bite when I was seven years old and can still remember how awful it tasted. Fruitcakes are terrible.”
“It depends on how you make it,” Graham said with a laugh as he settled onto the couch. They had each taken an end cushion, which enabled Brook to pull her legs up underneath her while facing him. He had also shifted slightly so that his right arm rested on the back of the couch. “If I have time, I’ll make you one.”
“Oh, you don’t need to go out of your way,” Brook assured him as she took a sip of her coffee. She could have stuck with wine, but she also had a long night ahead of her. She’d looked at her phone after dinner, and Bit had uploaded the first autopsy report. “I’ll just eat up the cookies that Bit keeps bringing into the office. His sister has been on a baking spree.”
“Speaking of siblings, has Agent Houser reached out to you lately?”
Brook explained her most recent phone conversation with Russell. It was still hard for her to call the man by his first name, but he’d had a point about dropping their formalities.
“Two siblings,” Graham read from the dining room wall. Brook had tacked up a piece of paper and written a slew of words in capital letters. “Same parents. Same household. Same town.”
“It’s something that I don’t think I’ll ever understand,” Brook said quietly yet comfortably. He’d allowed her to be back in her element. Whether that was by design or not didn’t matter. In her mind, the dinner had been a success. She’d allowed a small part of herself to have a semblance of a normal life, and that was something that she’d never thought possible. “It’s not like Jacob suffered some tragedy that changed his personality. Trust me, I’ve combed through every event in his childhood. There is nothing there that would explain why and how we turned out so differently.”
“Do you recall when he began to change?” Graham didn’t seem to be in any hurry to drive home, pack, and then head back to the airport. Brook found that she was fine with him delaying his departure, though she wouldn’t put too much thought into the reason why. “I know that your father can’t answer any of your questions, but what about another family member? Maybe they can recall an event or some type of accident that could explain his personality change. You mentioned to me before that he used to join in on family movie nights or watch Sunday morning cartoons with you.”
“I’ve already asked questions from every family member possible,” Brook replied with a small shrug. “At least, the ones who would sit down and talk to me. Let’s just say that I’m not invited to the family reunions that are held every five years or so.”
“And Jacob’s friends?” Graham prodded as he continued to stare at the large murder board. “I take it you’ve spoken with them?”
Brook narrowed her gaze at Graham’s sudden interest in the scenery that she’d already apologized for before dinner. It dawned on her that he had an ulterior motive for wanting her brother apprehended, but she couldn’t really hold it against him.
Her obsession kept her from moving forward in her life.
Without it, she might be more willing to venture forth and try a piece of that horrendous fruitcake. While anyone else listening in on the conversation wouldn’t have thought anything of her dismissal of such a gesture, Graham had seen the underlying truth.
Her cooking for him was one thing, but the other way around contained more intimacy than she was comfortable with right now. In her head, she understood such a distinction made little sense. She’d already warned him that she carried ugly scars underneath the surface.
“Right after I finished college, I called up Scotty and Daryl,” Brook informed him. “Neither one of them were very forthcoming, not that they were rude to me. They answered my questions as best they could, but let’s just say they didn’t volunteer anything substantive.”
