Chapter Fifteen #2
“Hey, kid,” he greeted, his attention lingering on the driver’s side, waiting for Becs to make an appearance.
When she stepped around the car, coming into full view, he did his best not to ogle.
Not an easy feat for a man who’d been lusting after this woman for months now.
It took every ounce of his self-control to pretend otherwise, and from what he could tell, he was doing a relatively good job.
Becs was still giving him the cold shoulder after the argument they had in New York back in August.
Not that he blamed her. It had taken a conversation with Kaye for Evan to realize how badly he’d fucked up.
Since his mother wasn’t an idiot, she’d picked up on the tension between him and Becs and had called him on it.
He’d explained it rather poorly, in his opinion, but that hadn’t stopped Kaye from telling him he was at fault for sending mixed signals.
Evan had been angry with her at the time, probably because she’d told him something he already knew, and the guilt was weighing him down.
However, he was doing well to stick to his guns when it came to keeping her at a distance. Becs needed someone who could give her everything she wanted, not merely the things she needed. Since the death of his wife, Evan hadn’t felt like he was capable of giving anything to anyone.
“You ready?” Becs asked, not looking directly at him.
That was her thing now. Ever since New York, Becs had done her best not to be alone with him. He’d fucked that one up but good. And he was paying for it every single day, having to see her, having to work with her, and not being able to get close again.
It was nothing less than what he deserved.
“Yeah. Let me tell my mother.”
He pivoted on his heel and headed back into the house. He went directly to the kitchen, pouring out the rest of his coffee and rinsing the cup before setting it in the sink.
“You need anything before we go?” he asked Kaye, who was sitting at the table with Sophie and Carly, getting ready to put together a puzzle.
“We’ve got it all under control,” she answered, peering up at him. “You two have fun.”
“It’s work, Mom.”
She smiled. “Doesn’t mean it can’t be fun.”
Shaking his head because he knew what she was really saying, Evan glanced at his daughter. “Bye, Soph.”
“Bye, Dad. Have fun,” she said without looking at him, her full attention on getting the puzzle pieces spread out.
“We should be back in a couple of hours.”
When no one responded, he assumed they had it covered, so he made his way back outside, where Becs was waiting for him.
“My car or yours?” she asked, her gaze shifting just over his right shoulder.
“Depends. You want to drive?”
“Not really.”
“Then we’ll take mine.”
The forty-minute drive to the motel where Meredith Prescott was holed up was as uncomfortable as the conversation about who was driving.
He tried to make small talk at first, but when it became as tedious as threading a needle with your eyes closed, he gave up.
It wasn’t until they were pulling into the motel parking lot that Becs finally spoke up.
“I guess they didn’t spring for luxury accommodations.”
No, it didn’t appear they had. “Maybe Travis is a penny-pincher.”
“Not according to Atticus,” Becs said with a grin. “They’ve got a suite in a fancy hotel.”
Did they now? “You talked to Atticus?”
“I talk to him all the time,” she said absently. “We’re friends.”
Of course they were. Why wouldn’t they be?
That was another thing that had changed since New York.
After Becs had invited Atticus to check out the sights with her, they’d become tight.
He told himself there was nothing to be jealous of since Atticus was gay, but sometimes his better angels simply didn’t listen to him.
He was. Jealous. Not because he worried she’d fall in love with Atticus.
He was jealous because Atticus got to see her smile, hear her laugh, talk about the things that were important to her.
Evan wanted that back, but he was too much of a coward to admit it.
“You ready?” she asked, her hand on the door handle.
“Yeah,” he said reluctantly, wishing he could find a way to get their relationship back to the way it had been before he’d felt the pleasure of her kiss.
Unfortunately, he’d spent hours and hours trying to come up with a way, but he never got very far.
Whenever he thought about Becs, he thought about kissing her, about the way he wanted nothing more than to strip her clothes from her body and ravish every inch of her.
Not that he would let her know that. He preferred for her to go on being mad at him while he secretly pined for her. She was safer that way.
With a sigh, Evan got out of the car when Becs did. He followed her up the stairs to the first weathered door on the second floor. She knocked softly, then took one step back and a few to her right, keeping space between them while they waited for Meredith to answer.
The door opened, and Decker’s face appeared. He looked the same as usual. Like he’d been sucking lemons for the better part of his life.
“What do you want?” His gaze snapped back and forth between them.
“To talk to Meredith.”
He shoved the door open, letting it hit the wall. “Have at it. I’m done talkin’.”
“Where are you going?” Meredith called after him when he stepped outside.
“To get some air. Talk to them, Eddie. Let’s get this done so you can go home.”
Evan was watching Meredith, noting how she looked like he’d punched her in the stomach with those words.
He found their interaction interesting, to say the least. After how defensive Decker had been about his relationship with her, Evan would’ve put money on them still being together.
That did not appear to be the case.
“My name’s Rebecca, and this is Evan,” Becs introduced, keeping her voice soft, non-threatening. “We work for Brantley and Reese. Would you mind if we came in?”
“Of course.” Meredith gestured toward the small table and two chairs. “Please. Have a seat.”
Becs stepped around the table, taking the chair closest to the wall, leaving the one near the door for him. Evan shifted it around, then eased into it while Meredith perched on the edge of the bed, her attention lingering on the door as though Decker might come back through it.
“How are you doing?” Becs asked, sounding sincere. “This must be difficult for you.”
Meredith’s eyes skimmed Becs’s face, as though she was looking for her ulterior motive. “I’m fine. I’d be better if I wasn’t confined to this place.”
“Hopefully it won’t be for long,” Becs said. “Brantley and Reese just want to take the appropriate precautions to keep you safe.”
“So I hear.”
“We need to ask you a few questions,” Evan told her, wanting to get this over with.
“About what? I really don’t have anything to tell you.”
They’d see about that.
“When you left—originally—why did you leave?” He figured it was best to just lay it out there. He didn’t want to pussyfoot around, pretending he was here as a friend. He wasn’t. They had a job to do, and in order to do it, they needed to get this woman to open up.
“I needed a change,” Meredith said, not looking him in the eye.
“From?”
“My life.”
“You up and left two kids and a husband because you were what? Bored?”
Meredith shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Lie.”
Her eyes snapped to his face.
He got her attention at least.
“Look. We don’t have time to play games. I get that you don’t know who to trust, but right now, we’re about as good as it gets. Now let’s try this again. Why did you really leave?”
She took a deep breath and let it out in a huff, her shoulders slumping as she did.
Just when she was about to answer—with another lie, based on the purse of her lips and the glance to the left—Becs’s phone buzzed. She would’ve ignored it, but Evan nodded toward the device sitting on the table between them. From where he sat, he could see Atticus’s name on the screen.
Becs picked up the phone and tapped it. Her eyes widened, and she turned it toward him so he could see a photograph that Atticus had sent.
He had received a text from Archer earlier, but no picture to go with the brief details. Before he could ask Archer about it, Becs had pulled up in front of his house.
Turning the phone, Becs flashed the screen in Meredith’s direction. “Who’s the baby in this picture?”
Meredith’s eyes widened, and her hand went to her mouth. “Where did you get that?”
“Who is it?” Becs repeated.
Tears formed in Meredith’s eyes when she looked up, meeting Evan’s gaze first. “That’s—”
The door opened and Decker stepped inside. His attention shot to the phone Becs was holding up, then his expression shifted, morphing into something you’d see in your nightmares.
“Where the fuck did you get that?” he bellowed at Becs, taking a step toward her.
On instinct, Evan got to his feet, making it impossible for Decker to get to her. “Back off.”
Decker glared at him, then lunged to the right. “You back off. Where the fuck did you get that?”
Evan blocked him again, this time putting his hands on Decker’s chest and shoving him back. “I said. Back. Off.”
From behind him, Becs said, “Cicily Rose. 2006.”
If the kid was born in 2006, that made her sixteen or so.
“Is that your daughter?” Evan asked Meredith.
“No,” Decker answered, still glaring at him.
It was then that Evan realized Decker’s eyes didn’t hold anger or fury as he’d initially thought. Oh, no. What he saw there was significantly worse.
That wasn’t rage. It was pain.
Which meant he’d nailed it in one. That child in the photo wasn’t just Meredith’s daughter. She was Decker’s.