Chapter Six
When Bryson had mentioned a hangover blaster, the name alone should have warned Teagan to just say no.
But she had to admit, even sitting on his master bathroom floor with her head hanging over a toilet, that awful concoction had done the trick.
Too bad that meant throwing up everything she’d eaten or drank for the past week.
She shuddered and sat back. At least she could be grateful that the man was a neat freak.
Either that or he hired really great cleaning people.
His bathroom floor was spotless. She winced.
Or it had been, until she’d come along. With her tummy finally settling, she pushed herself to her feet and then wobbled to the sink.
After rinsing her mouth out with some mouthwash that she’d found in a cabinet and brushing her teeth with her finger and a dab of toothpaste, she felt almost human again.
She washed her face, made sure her stubborn hair hadn’t escaped its braid, then did a quick refresh of the bathroom.
The sound of voices engaged in conversation had her hurrying through the master bedroom and opening the door.
The front double door was wide open. Bryson was in his wheelchair directing a man with a hand truck full of bankers boxes toward a hallway that ran across the back of the house.
Careful not to get in the way, she plopped down cross-legged on a leather padded bench just outside the bedroom and waited.
By the time the man was finished and Bryson locked the door behind him, she’d counted over a dozen boxes.
He wheeled his chair up to her. “Feeling better?”
“Much. Although I’m not sure whether the cure is worse than the hangover.” She motioned toward his chair. “I see you ran out of tequila and traded in the cane.”
“My liver cried uncle for the day.”
“If you strip, I’d be happy to play Helga and massage your hip for you.” She rubbed her hands together in anticipation.
“Helga?”
“The masseuse from this morning. What I lack in professional training I’d more than make up for with enthusiasm.”
He coughed as if to cover a laugh. “Yes, well. I appreciate the offer but another massage isn’t going to do the trick at this point. The hip gives out once the muscles get overworked and won’t support me anymore.”
“Are you doing physical therapy?”
“Let me guess. You can help me with that too?”
“If I’d known I’d meet you one day, I would have changed majors in college so I could say yes.”
This time he laughed out loud. “Let me worry about the therapy, or lack thereof.” He waved toward the back hallway. “Go on. Ask me about the boxes. I can tell that your curiosity is eating you alive.”
She frowned. “Your earlier theory about your girlfriend dumping you because of your limp probably isn’t right. I think she left you because you’re always profiling people and reading their minds. Okay, yes, the curiosity is driving me batty. What’s in the boxes?”
“I don’t read minds. Profiling, or more accurately, Criminal Investigative Analysis, is science, not art. Although some might argue it’s both. And the answer to your question is that the boxes contain my research on the Kentucky Ripper. I was fresh out of polka-dot folders.”
“All you had to do was ask. I could have let you borrow some of mine.” She waved toward the cased opening where he’d directed the man with the hand truck. “Did the FBI send over copies of their research on the case?”
“The FBI doesn’t allow former agents access to their case files.
Those are copies I made of everything that passed my desk back when I worked on the investigation.
Well, more accurately, when I worked on the profile.
Technically, I wasn’t an investigator. But the case consumed me and left me with more questions than answers, even after the killer was convicted.
I religiously copied as much as I could and snuck it home every chance I got.
From start to finish, the case took two years. Those copies added up.”
She put her hands on her hips. “I knew it. You don’t think the right guy was put away or you wouldn’t have risked your career taking that stuff home. Admit it. My theory holds water.”
“I admit nothing. But I’m willing to take a fresh look, which is why I had this stuff brought out of storage.” He motioned toward the doorway at the end of the room. “Come on. Might as well give you a tour of this monstrosity and show you where those boxes went.”
“That monstrosity comment I made earlier was under duress. I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did. And I don’t take offense. It is a rather large house, too big for one person. But it met my requirements when I was house shopping.”
“Let me guess. Requirement number one, no carpet, for easier mobility with the cane and wheelchair?”
“Anyone could have guessed that.”
“Requirement number two,” she said. “It’s only one story. You’re not ready to tackle stairs just yet.”
“Again, too easy. What about the third requirement?”
She shook her head. “Stumped on that one.”
“The isolated location so people wouldn’t bother me.” He arched a brow at her.
She winced. “Ah, well. Two out of three isn’t bad. That’s sixty-six percent, still a passing grade, in high school at least.”
“Somehow I can’t imagine you ever being satisfied with anything less than an A. You were valedictorian, weren’t you?”
“Takes one to know one?”
He smiled. “Come on. You’ve already seen the kitchen, family room, and made yourself completely at home in my master bedroom and bathroom.” He waved toward two more doors on the far right wall. “Closet and half bath.”
“I was so close earlier. Didn’t realize there was a half bath over there.”
“At least you made it to a bathroom. Can’t complain about that.” He wheeled his chair toward the back of the room.
She fell in step beside him. “What is this floor made out of? I can’t figure it out.”
He leaned over the side of the chair as if noticing the floor for the first time. “Beats me. Came with the house. Come on, right turn, obviously, since the hall starts here.”
Along the way, he pointed out the various rooms but didn’t stop until they reached the far end.
“He motioned toward the door in front of them. This leads—”
“Let me guess. Man cave?”
“Home office.”
“Oh. Kind of anticlimactic after walking all this way.”
“It wasn’t that far.”
She gave him a droll look. “Says the man who rolled all the way here. I’ve already gotten my ten thousand steps for the day. And that’s just since I walked out of your bedroom.”
“Do you want to see the coolest part of the house or not?”
“Coolest? Robert Downey Jr. in Iron Man cool or Keanu Reeves in John Wick kind of cool?”
“More like Bruce Willis in anything kind of cool.”
She grinned and they fist-bumped. “Then my answer is most definitely yes.”
He shoved the door open. Then he moved back and motioned her forward. “After you.”
The excitement on his face had her expecting something amazing when she stepped inside the room.
She wasn’t disappointed.