Chapter 4 Luke #3
My mind spun through the questions as I drove to Stockyard’s and picked up dinner. Another death. The FBI. There’d be no relaxing when I got home. Only work, trying to get Scarlett to confide in me with the truth.
As I turned onto my street, my eyes darted everywhere, searching for anything out of place. The vehicles parked in driveways were all recognizable, neighbors’ and a few construction workers’. A couple of kids rode their bikes along the sidewalks.
Yet the hairs prickled at the back of my neck, like someone was watching me as I eased into my garage. I waited until the door was completely shut before climbing out and going inside.
Scarlett stood in the kitchen. “Hey.”
“Hi.” I hefted up the bag in my hand. “I picked up burgers.”
“Oh.”
I toed off my shoes and padded into the kitchen. “Is that okay?”
“Sure.” She nodded, darting to the cupboards to take out plates.
Scarlett had found her way around the house quickly. When I came home each evening, she’d already retired to her room, but judging by the dwindling food in the fridge and the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, she was eating.
The circles under her eyes had faded considerably. Her cheeks weren’t as hollow as they’d been a week ago. Even her hair had a newfound sheen. It hung in long, silky strands to her waist.
She looked better. Much better.
Scarlett took a burger for her plate and I shook out some fries. Then she gave me a small smile before picking up her plate and making a hasty exit from the kitchen.
“Wait,” I said to her back before she could disappear into her bedroom. “Let’s eat together.”
“Oh, that’s okay.”
“Please.” The word was more of a command than a plea.
Her shoulders fell as I walked to the dining room and quickly drew the shades.
The room was located at the front of the house, off the entryway. I rarely sat at the table myself, preferring to eat at the kitchen island or in the living room. But that was only because sitting at a six-seat table alone was a bit depressing.
There was a large picture window that overlooked the neighborhood.
I hadn’t bothered to pull these shades earlier in the week because even if someone pressed their hands against the glass from outside, they couldn’t see into the house.
Scarlett was smart enough not to come in here and expose herself.
She hovered beyond the room as I took a seat.
I frowned. Did everything have to be a fight? “Sit down, Scarlett.”
A flash of irritation crossed her face but she did as ordered, sliding into a chair. Then she popped a fry into her mouth, her eyes never leaving mine as she chewed.
I tore into my burger, eating like a starved man, but Scarlett picked at hers. “Don’t you like burgers?”
She lifted a shoulder. “They’re fine.”
Lies. Was that why she’d been quick to disappear? So I wouldn’t notice that she wasn’t eating? It wasn’t my job to learn everything there was to know about her. I just needed to learn what had happened with the Warriors. “I had a visit from the FBI today.”
Scarlett froze, the fry pinched between her fingers stopping midair.
“They are looking for you.”
She gulped.
“Want to tell me why?”
“No.” She dropped the fry to her plate and made a move to stand, but I lifted a hand.
“Stop. Scarlett, please. You’ve got to tell me what’s going on. Today won’t be the last time the FBI comes sniffing around. For all I know, they’re watching the house. And until I know what we’re dealing with, you’re not going anywhere.” One week. Two weeks. It was all off the table at this point.
Her shoulders tensed, rising toward her ears. Scarlett knew that with the FBI involved, she’d be hiding here for the foreseeable future.
“It would help me if I knew what happened while you were with the Warriors.”
“Nothing happened.”
“I believe that just about as much as I believe you like cheeseburgers.”
Her nostrils flared and she picked up her burger, using both hands, before opening her mouth wide and chomping a huge bite. She chewed with fury, trying to prove me wrong. She might have done it if not for the grimace when she swallowed.
I hung my head and sighed. Christ. Couldn’t this be easier? Did she have to be so damn stubborn? I was trying to help. “Fine. Let’s try something else. How about some yes and no questions?”
She dropped the burger to her plate.
“Did you know Jeremiah was stealing drugs from the Warriors?”
“No.”
“Has the FBI ever contacted you before?”
“No.”
They probably hadn’t been able to approach her if she’d been living with the Warriors. Now that she was out, Scarlett was fair game.
I popped the last bite of my burger into my mouth, still hungry, and reached across the table to collect the rest of hers.
She didn’t protest. Scarlett simply watched me eat, bringing her legs up in the chair so her knees were tucked into her chest. The posture seemed so natural for her. A habit. A protective shell.
There was no way I’d get past it with another round of questions, which meant it was time to switch it up.
“Did you do laundry today?” The house smelled like soap and fabric softener, one of my favorite things.
She gave me the side eye. “Yes.”
“Whenever I walk into a house that smells like laundry, it reminds me of my mother. I’d come home from school and it would either smell like laundry or chocolate chip cookies.
” Mostly laundry. Mom had always teased me that it was the never-ending story of her life.
But on the days when there was nothing to wash, she’d bake cookies. “Is the bed in your room comfortable?”
Scarlett let one of her legs drop to the floor, her eyes narrowing as she drawled, “Yes.”
“Good.” I nodded. “My dad always said it was but he’s happy sleeping anywhere so I wasn’t sure.”
Scarlett studied me, lifting another french fry to her mouth as she put her other leg down.
My random questions were working. Thank God. Not that I was learning anything important. “Watch anything good on TV today?”
“No.”
I leaned back in my chair, taking my last bite. The juicy flavor of the burger, the soft texture of the bun and the tang of the pickle and mustard were what I’d needed after a long day. How could Scarlett not like a good burger?
She was different than Presley that way. Pres and I used to go to Stockyard’s often while we dated.
“You grew up in Chicago, right?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
It wasn’t a yes or no question, but I hoped that she’d open up. Come on, Scarlett. Give a little.
She ate another french fry, her eyes fixed firmly on her plate. “I worked as a receptionist after I graduated from a local community college.”
“Did you like it?”
“No.”
It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. Slowly, I was figuring this woman out.
Scarlett wasn’t like Presley. Whatever came to Presley’s mind usually came out of her mouth, snark and all. Scarlett had the snark, she had the edge, but she kept everything hidden.
There wouldn’t be a hurried confession. Learning about her was going to take time. Trust. And after all she’d been through, I guess I couldn’t blame her. That son of a bitch Jeremiah had done a number on her. Why would she think I was any different? She didn’t know me either.
I had the power to change that.
“I went to college,” I said. “Stayed all four years and graduated with a degree in sociology. Except for my criminal justice classes, I hated every minute. I always knew I wanted to be a cop like my dad, but I stuck out school anyway.”
“Why?” Scarlett ate another fry, unable to hide the curiosity in her voice. She could ask me all the questions she wanted. Unlike her, I had nothing to hide.
“My mom. She wanted me to go to college for the experience and education. Secretly, I think she’d hoped I’d decide to be a lawyer instead of a cop.
” I always wondered if she was looking down on me, happy that I’d followed the path I’d been so set upon, or disappointed that I hadn’t branched out.
“I actually wouldn’t have gone to college at all, but she died my junior year in high school. ”
Scarlett sucked in a sharp breath. “How?”
“Breast cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
I gave her a sad smile. “She was a remarkable woman. Love of my dad’s life. Best mother in the world, and I’ll fight you on that one if you say yours is better.”
Scarlett dropped her chin and shook her head.
“I grew up in Montana. Lived in the state my entire life. When Mom was alive, we lived in Great Falls. That’s where I was born.
Then after she passed, neither Dad nor I wanted to stay.
Too many memories. We moved to Missoula and I did my senior year there, then stayed for college.
He’s been there ever since. Though I think he’ll move here when he retires in a few years. ”
To this day, we both missed Mom. We both always would. But especially Dad. He’d stayed strong after her death, not letting his grief consume him. For me. And I hoped in some way I’d helped him too. We’d leaned on each other.
“Are you close?” Scarlett asked.
I nodded. “He’s my best friend. I talk to him a couple times each week.”
She kept her chin down. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because maybe if you get to know me, you’ll realize I’m a good guy.”
Scarlett scoffed, the noise barely audible. Then she lifted her face, her gaze defiant, and shook her head. “I don’t believe in good guys.”
I’d have to change her mind on that one. Luckily, I had time.
Scarlett Marks wasn’t going anywhere.