Chapter 20

“I think this is where I lost the footprints.”

“You’re right.” He pointed at a strip of pink flagging tape tied to a branch. A fly buzzed his ear, and he swatted the annoying bug. Once again, he hadn’t brought bug spray, and once again, he was a prime target for the hordes of buzzing insects that called the park home. A cloud of hungry mosquitos surrounded him, while not one bug bothered Candace. “Did you bring any bug spray?” He cursed and swatted a mosquito that landed on his neck looking for breakfast.

She unzipped a pouch in the back of the pack and tugged out a small canister. “I never hike without it.”

He took the can, careful not to brush his fingers against hers. “Thanks.” Stepping a few feet away, he sprayed a cloud of repellent over his body. His eyes watered, and he coughed and gagged at the acrid stench, but the bugs disappeared. Hallelujah!

“If you plan on doing more hiking in the woods, you’d better come prepared.” She smiled. “This is only the start of the season. The bugs will be a lot worse in a few weeks.”

“They sure seem to like my city-slicker blood.”

She laughed. “It’s probably all the lattes, mochas, and espressos you city folks drink.”

Her musical laughter was contagious and impossible to resist, and he chuckled.

“Why did you move to Briggston?”

He was so distracted by that adorable dimple flashing in her cheek, it was a minute before he realized what she’d asked. His smile fizzled. “What are you talking about?” But he knew. Oh, yes, he knew. The only surprise was, she’d waited so long.

Her forehead crinkled into a frown. “I’m sorry if I’m prying, but your partner mentioned you moved here from Seattle.” Her attempt at a smile failed miserably. “Most people do the opposite. You know, move out of the small town to the bright lights of the city.”

He cursed under his breath. Damn Joe. Trust him to gossip. For a heartbeat he thought about lying, making up some story about how he’d always wanted to live in a small town, but he saw the truth in her blue eyes. She knew the sordid details of his ignominious escape from Seattle, but she was too nice to come out and accuse him of anything. Instead, she was giving him a chance to explain. He sank onto a moss-covered log and patted the space beside him. “You might as well sit down. It’s a long and ugly story.”

She sat beside him and picked up a twig and twirled it with her fingers. “You don’t have to tell me. Your past is none of my business. I’m sorry I asked.”

He clenched his hands so tight his fingers hurt. “It’s not like it’s a secret. The details are all over the Internet.”

Her face flushed a bright red.

“You looked me up, didn’t you?”

She didn’t meet his gaze. “The Internet articles said you were fired from your detective position with the Seattle Police Department.”

He nodded. “The Department didn’t have a choice. They had to let me go.”

For the first time since they’d started the uncomfortable conversation, she met his gaze. “The news stories implied you’d made some poor decisions. The situation must have been horrible.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek and tasted blood. “I made a bad mistake. A big one. If it weren’t for my actions, we'd have figured out the mother was the perp a lot sooner. Maybe we could've saved the child.”

“Will you tell me what happened?” Her voice broke. “But only if you want to.”

He met her gaze, read compassion, and not the avid curiosity and distrust he’d feared, in the blue depths, and he inhaled a deep, steadying breath. “I was the detective in charge. It was my first big case, and I was pretty cocky. I thought I could save the world.” He grimaced. “As it turned out, I couldn’t even save one little girl.”

“The media accused you and the mother of having an affair. They dubbed you Loverboy.”

He unclenched his hands and spread them on his thighs and studied the thick cords of blue veins on the tanned skin on the backs of his hands. Revealing the details of that terrible time was hard, harder than anything he’d ever done. Made all the more difficult because he cared about her, cared what she thought of him, both as a man and a cop. But she had to know the ugly truth. Maybe once she realized how flawed he was, the attraction that flared between them would fade, and she’d stay well away.

He heaved a breath. “The reporters believe I was having an inappropriate relationship with the mother, and because of that, I didn’t suspect her until it was too late.” He picked up a pebble and tossed it over the bank. “They were wrong. I felt sorry for Marissa. Who wouldn’t? Her child had been kidnapped, and she was distraught, but I didn’t cross the line. We didn’t have an affair, no matter what she, her lawyer, or the media say.”

A crow landed on a fir bough in a nearby tree, its weight bending the branch. The big, black bird’s chestnut-colored eyes met his, and it cawed as if mocking him.

A sudden lassitude descended, and all he wanted to do was lie down, close his eyes, and sink into oblivion. He gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. He wouldn’t take the coward’s way out. He’d started this sordid tell-all; he was damn well going to finish. Candace deserved the complete and unvarnished truth.

“I didn’t sleep with her, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He heaved a shaky breath. “But what I did was a thousand times worse.” He slipped off his cap and threaded his fingers through his hair. “I was so certain I knew who the culprit was, I ignored the evidence that was right in front of me. I believed everything that woman said, every damn lie.” A long silence ensued. Tears burned his eyes, but he blinked them back. “I blame myself for that little girl’s death.”

“So that’s why you didn’t defend yourself.” Her voice was soft, as if her throat was coated with liquid honey. “You think you deserved to be punished. You believe Marissa killed her daughter because you didn’t stop her in time.”

“I should've seen through her lies. That’s my job—to find the bad guys before they hurt anyone.” He met her gaze even though he knew his eyes must be streaked with red and tear-filled. “All the signs pointed at Marissa, but I thought I knew better. A child paid the price for my arrogance.”

She shifted closer and rested her hand on his thigh. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened. Marissa was a liar and a manipulator. She would've murdered her daughter no matter what you did. You were the scapegoat.”

He stared into her eyes, desperate to believe her, but the burden of guilt was too entrenched and refused to ease. “We’re wasting time sitting here rehashing the past. Nothing’s going to change what happened. I screwed up. Nothing will bring that little girl back.” He lurched to his feet. “Let’s get going.”

She stood and faced him, her hands on her slim hips. “Are you finished with your little pity party?”

He blinked.

“It’s time you stopped blaming yourself and cut yourself some slack. You did the best you could with the information you had.” Two bright spots of red stained her cheeks. Her blue eyes flashed fire. “You’re a good cop. You really care about the people you help. If you’d had the slightest indication the mother was the kidnapper, you’d have arrested her. I know that, and you do too.”

He wiped his hand over his damp eyes. Could she be right, and he wasn’t at fault? Was that even a possibility? For the first time in over a year, he didn’t hate himself.

She moved a step closer. “Look. You know my story. I’ve lived with survivor’s guilt most of my life. I wake up at night blaming myself for Charlene’s disappearance.”

“You were just a kid. It wasn’t your fault. If you’d woken up when the perp was in your room, he could've killed you, or taken you too.”

“You don’t understand. It was my fault.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “I left the front door unlocked.”

“What?”

She nodded. “Yep. It was me. There was a special type of full moon that night, and I wanted to see it. After everyone was in bed, I snuck outside. When I came back inside, I forgot to lock the front door.” She shuddered. “If it weren’t for my stupid mistake, the man who took Charlene wouldn’t have been able to get into the house. He would have gone somewhere else.”

Silence settled over them. Birds tweeted in the bushes, the crow cawed again, insects buzzed, but he stood there, frozen, locked into her tortured gaze. The same painful shadows that he saw reflected in his eyes every morning when he looked in the mirror dulled her blue eyes.

In the next breath, he was holding her in his arms. What started as an offer of comfort and compassion, transformed into something else, something beyond his control. He kissed her sweet lips, and one kiss led to another and another. He couldn’t get enough.

She pressed her body closer, her soft curves melding with his muscular hardness.

He loosened her braid and tangled his fingers through her silky hair. His chest heaved, and his blood heated and headed south.

Her moan was the sweetest music he’d ever heard, and he deepened the kiss, exploring her warm, moist mouth. He smoothed his hands over the swell of her hips.

Tracker barked, the sharp sound acting like a splash of cold water.

Sanity returned, and he dropped his arms and stumbled back a step. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Shouldn’t have done that? Hell, that was an understatement. He was on the job. Kissing her was all shades of wrong. He was supposed to be grilling her, not making out. Lives were at stake, hers especially.

Her face was unreadable, her eyes dark, the pupils dilated. Her mouth was red and swollen from their kisses, her cheeks flushed.

She smoothed the tendrils of hair he’d freed with his passion and inhaled a breath. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? Both so filled with guilt, that’s all we see.”

A rush of warmth flooded him. She understood. She got him. Just like he got her.

Oh man. He was done for.

He liked this woman. God help him. He really liked her.