Atonement (14 page)

“I'm here, the files are here, it's just easier this way.”

The “I don't believe you” look Drummond gave her was almost comical. Nic returned his look with her typical blank face she'd perfected in many a fight with The General. Nothing about this was comical. Four people were dead, and the way they were dying smelled rotten to Nic.

She vowed to find out why.

An hour later, Nic parked in her driveway. She realized on the drive that Doc Drummond would probably tell Hamilton and O'Hanlon about her jaunt to the hospital, but she was past the point of caring. It was evident both men were looking for a way to black her out, and with Con poking around about her PTSD, it was only a matter of time.

She gathered the box of files and lugged it into the house, heading straight for the dining-room table. Her movements attracted attention from Cassy, who exited her bedroom as Nic passed.

“Why are you here?”

“I brought work home.” Nic took her favorite coffee out of the freezer and poured the beans into the grinder on the counter next to the coffee maker. “I need you to help me.”

Cassy's mouth gaped open the instant Nic hit the button to grind the beans. The machine's high-pitched whine prevented her sister from saying a word. While she waited for Nic to finish, Cassy leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms.

Suppressing the smile, Nic focused on the grinder. Her sister's posture was so much like Emma, her stepmother, when she was in her patient mode. The grinder ceased.

“Do I dare ask, for fear of getting my head removed from my neck and you spitting down my throat, what I am helping you with?” Cassy asked.

Adding water to the coffee maker, Nic punched the brew button. “Since you're here being a general pain in my ass, I figured I'd put your investigative skills to good use. I could use a fresh set of eyes to go over these cases and get an opinion from someone who doesn't have ties to this community.”

Cassy pushed off from the counter. “Does this have anything to do with the FBI agent who came to town?”

“How do you know about him?”

An odd, disgusted scowl covered Cassy's face. “Ran into him this morning.”

“Encountered the prick before, huh?”

“Something like that.” With that, her sister wandered into the dining room.

The underlying meaning hit Nic the exact moment Cassy removed the lid on the evidence box.

“Whoa!” Nic bolted into the room. “Are you telling me you slept with that federal agent?”

“Saying I slept with him makes it sound sleazy.” Cassy pulled out the files and placed them on the table in order by date.

“Then what do you call it? It's not like you're married to him. Oh man, The General doesn't know about him, does he?”

“Not in a million years would I utter a word to Pop about him. Not after the way he exploded at that Christmas dinner disaster when he found out you and your spotter were doing the horizontal mambo.”

“You were always The General's favorite; he would have never done that to you. Besides, Aiden and I were marines—we were supposed to be above sexual encounters and never tarnish the marine image, or more accurately, The General's image.”

Cassy gripped the back of a chair. “What happened to Aiden?”

Figures her sister would use this line of conversation to start probing around in Nic's past. Leaving the dining room doorway, she rummaged around in the kitchen, looking for something to eat. The fridge revealed leftover enchiladas and pancakes. Nic used the door to brace her body as she stared at the containers. Eat the food, or let it go to waste? There was a steak in the freezer she could thaw and cook.

“It won't kill you to eat the food I made,” Cassy said.

“That's debatable.” Nic grabbed the Rubbermaid container with the enchiladas. She couldn't bring herself to eat those pancakes.

Popping two of the enchiladas on an oven-safe plate into the countertop convection oven, Nic left the food to warm up while she prepared a glass of chocolate milk.

“I can't believe you still drink that,” Cassy said, amused.

With a shrug, Nic stirred the chocolate syrup into the milk. “Better than what I really want to drink.”

Silence fell between them. Ducking her head, Cassy fixed herself a plate.

Nic watched her out of the corner of her eye. They'd been close when they were young. Though Nic kept a lot of secrets from her baby sister, she'd taken the role of protector seriously, hoping to shield Cassy from their father's indifference. Until the day she learned that he didn't view Cassy in the same manner he did Nic. They were living in that small base house, where a teenaged Nicolette had the perfect-sized secret cubbyhole to hide in when she needed privacy.

The silence that followed had cut through Nic more than hearing The General admit she'd never live up to his standards. It was the last time she tried to earn his love.

“Nic?” Cassy's gentle voice pulled her from the memories.

She glanced at her sister before retrieving the plate from the oven. “I think there's one of Betty's pies in the freezer. I can get it out, and we can eat that later.”

“Sounds good.”

Nic took her meal into the living room. Setting her glass on the end table next to the sofa, she flopped down. The motion stirred a strong masculine combination of musk and allspice. Con had slept on her sofa the other night, and his scent clung to the fabric. It wrapped around her like caring arms, draining the tension from her body. As much as he managed to push her buttons, she couldn't resist the pull he had on her. Stuffing a forkful of the spicy, peppery enchilada in her mouth helped mask the smell of him.

Cassy soon joined her, sitting in the single armchair opposite. “I pulled that pie out to thaw,” she mentioned.

Avoiding eye contact, Nic nodded and continued eating, actually enjoying the food. Little sister had certainly improved her cooking skills enough to rival Emma's culinary talents.

“I thought I loved him.”

The vulnerability in Cassy's statement slammed into Nic like a round from her Remington. She blinked and swallowed hard, setting her plate on the end table. The rattle of the plate touching the wood brought Cassy's head up. Nic's breath caught in her throat at the pain etched into her sister's features.

Gawd, she couldn't be emotionally supportive. How? She was a tangled mess and unable to cope with her own problems.

Cassy closed her eyes, sniffed, and shook her head. She went back to poking at her food, tearing the enchilada apart.

“What do you expect me to say?” Nic blurted out.

“Nothing. Because I know you're not capable of understanding. Right now, your world can't handle one more emotional problem for fear it'll explode.” Cassy dropped her fork onto her plate and moved to stand.

Nic beat her to the punch and towered over her sister. “I know what it feels like to love someone and … ”

“And what?”

“And have it thrown back in your face.”

Frustrated that she'd revealed too much, Nic backed away, grabbed her empty dishes, and left the living room. She dumped the load in the sink and prepared a mug of coffee.

“When are you going to start letting me in?”

Keeping her back to her sister, she sipped the coffee, staring at the cabinet doors.

“Nic, you can't keep shutting me out. Especially if you expect me to assist you with those cases.”

“Those cases aren't bargaining chips in your quest to fix me.”

“Obviously there's something about them that is setting you off. So, yes, sister, they are a bargaining chip.”

The coffee mug thunked against the counter, sloshing coffee over the sides. Nic whirled, glaring at Cassy. “You're not The General. So quit trying. I'm done putting up with this shit.”

Pink stained the skin along Cassy's hairline. The blond hair did little to hide her anger. “The General, as you're so fond of calling Pop, would rather drag you home where he can help you. It's because of
my
intervention he hasn't done it yet. Though I don't have a friggin' clue why I keep stopping him.”

“He only cares because my screwups reflect on his
stellar
career and now his retirement.”

“Where do you get off thinking that? He's our father, he loves you … ” Cassy's face blanched.

Apparently Nic's admission of having love thrown back in her face and who did it had just registered in Cassy's brain.

The last time Nic had gone to The General for help, she had known how it would go down, but still that little girl inside of her had hoped. Dared to believe that the man who fathered her would step up and be a father.

Semper fi my ass.

His beloved Marine Corps made sure she and Aiden got the boot and left them with nothing but threats and a gag order. And all The General could leave her with was
semper fi.

Nic sniffed. “I don't want his kind of help.”

“And whose help will you accept?” Cassy stalked to the island counter that separated them.

“Why do you care so damn much? With me out of the way, there won't be a black stain on our family's reputation.”

“I care because you're my sister. And whether you believe it or not, I love you. Mom loves you. And I know Aiden did, too.”

“Bullshit! He loved me so much he had to kill himself.”

A frown darkened Cassy's features. She slumped onto one of the barstools next to the counter. “I thought he passed away because of a health issue.”

“Yeah, a mental health issue. He was eaten alive by guilt over what happened on our last mission. When he couldn't take it one minute longer, he decided a noose around a barn beam was the only way to make it stop. The bastard made damn sure it would be me who found him, too.”

Cassy pressed a hand to her mouth and gaped at Nic.

Angered by the disbelief reflecting in her sister's light blue eyes, Nic stalked to the island and slapped the countertop, making Cassy jerk. “You don't get to be upset.”

“Nic,” Cassy said softly.

“Don't ‘Nic' me.” She pushed away from the counter and went to her room, locking out the world.

The delicate grasp she had on her emotions finally slipped. Nic slumped against the door and slid to the floor. Burying her fingers in her hair, she bowed her head and let the tears flow free. The grief she'd kept locked away surfaced and consumed her, forcing its way out of her in gut-wrenching sobs.

Too much. It was all just too much.

“That rank bastard. I'll fry him.”

Con threw his keys at his truck. It was a sight better than kicking at the flat, slashed tires and injuring his foot.

“You're sure it was Walker?” Shane asked.

“Who else would it be? Rivers wouldn't stoop that low. And I highly doubt the new kid has the motive.”

Conveniently, the people who could verify Con's allegations had pulled disappearing acts. Next time he saw Doug, that son of a bitch wouldn't get off with a mere bruise. No, Con planned to break a few bones.

“Give the tire place here in town a call and have them haul your truck to the shop. I'll take care of Deputy Walker and see about the repair costs,” Shane said. “I've got to meet with the mayor and the president of the town council to discuss preparations for the Fall Festival parade. You can wait here until I get back, or walk to the police department.”

Con closed his eyes and worked his jaw back and forth. The Eider police department was more than a mile away from the sheriff's department. Last he knew, the only other available car from the department was in the shop. He could call his mam or Farran, but that required an explanation he didn't want to give and a month's worth of teasing from his sister.

“I'll figure something—”

“I can take him,” Agent Hunt broke in.

Con shook his head. “No, that's not necessary—”

“Detective O'Hanlon, just accept the offer.”

“That settles it. I need to leave. Gentlemen.” With a tip of his hat, Shane hurried to his vehicle.

Con massaged a spot in the middle of his forehead. Instead of working on the new development with the Walker/Moore affair, he'd spent two hours with Hunt and Shane discussing in detail what they knew about the four interconnecting deaths. He desperately needed a break from the FBI agent. Now he was stuck with Secret Agent Man.

Someone stab him with a pitchfork.

“I'd like to check in with your coroner, see the autopsies,” Hunt said.

Nodding, Con pulled his cell from his pocket and called the tire repair shop. One of the guys would be out quickly. Disconnecting the call, Con slid the phone back into his pocket and picked up his keys. He leaned back against his truck, crossed his arms, and waited.

Agent Hunt positioned himself in his rental car and made a few phone calls while they waited. Con relished the lack of conversation and enjoyed the birds chirping in the trees.

Twenty minutes later, a large flatbed truck pulled into the parking lot. Con helped the driver load his vehicle then waved the guy off. He slid into the passenger seat of Hunt's car and let his body relax.