Chapter Thirty-Eight #3
Those painful thoughts tried to resurface, attempted to undermine her courage.
CJ pushed them away. She couldn’t go there and get this done.
She had a meeting with Tyrone tomorrow morning.
Between now and then she had to decide what she was going to do about a tape.
She hadn’t exactly lied to him. She had found a tape.
But it was blank.
Somehow she had to finagle a way to get him to tell her the name before she showed him the tape. There was an old television and VCR in the clinic lobby. If she was lucky, it wouldn’t work. She could tell him to just take the tape—as soon as he told her the killer’s name.
Surely her little performance outside his house was proof enough that she was upset with Braddock.
Maybe.
One step at a time. She should call Braddock and explain what she’d done.
Strike that. She wouldn’t have to call him. He was likely waiting outside her house right now.
She clipped her wet hair up and headed out of the bathroom. She should eat. Braddock had insisted she have breakfast this morning, but she hadn’t thought about food since.
Right now, she was starved.
She drifted down the stairs, tried to think what she’d noticed that was edible when she’d torn the kitchen apart.
“What the hell was that all about?”
CJ’s heart lunged into her throat. “Braddock.” He was standing in the middle of the living room.
“What,” he reiterated as he moved toward her, “was that little show in Nash’s yard all about?”
She opened her mouth to tell him, but there was too much to say. “Come on.” She grabbed his hand. “I’ll show you.”
Not about to climb into that dusty attic again, she sent him up there to see for himself.
When he climbed back through the narrow access, he dusted off his hands. “Looks like she was all set to go.”
“But she got interrupted.” CJ glanced around at the mess she’d made. Shelley had been doing exactly what she’d said she was doing. Getting her life together for real this time.
And CJ hadn’t given her the chance to explain.
Misery swelled inside her.
“What did you say to Nash?”
CJ lifted her gaze to Braddock’s. “I . . .” The smudge of coal soot on his jaw distracted her. She reached up and swiped the black smudge from his jaw. He tensed at her touch. “Sorry. You had soot on your face.”
His gaze dropped to her exposed belly. She blushed but didn’t move to try to tug the blouse down. Wouldn’t have done any good, anyway. She let him look. Needed to feel something besides the pain of loss.
When he lifted his gaze to hers once more, there was no way to miss the desire there. It startled her a little. She didn’t see herself that way. Another reason she’d been so jealous of Shelley with Braddock. Shelley had been the sexy, flirtatious one. CJ had always been the bookworm.
“Nash,” he said, his voice a little thick. “What did you say to Nash?”
She gave herself a mental shake, ordered her heart to slow. “I told him I had you on video doing all sorts of bad things.” Then she told him about the other part she’d added, the talk of Nash’s activities. And about the meeting tomorrow morning.
“He won’t wait until morning.”
Fear trickled into her veins. “You think he’ll come after me tonight?”
Braddock nodded. “We were supposed to plan your meeting with him.”
She shrugged. “I found the video equipment and I got fired up. You weren’t here, so . . .”
“He could have forced you to tell him the truth right there in his house.” Braddock’s jaw started that flexing that meant he was pissed. “You went in his house and basically threatened him. You ordered my detective to stay in his car. If I hadn’t showed up—”
“I was already out the door when you showed up,” she argued. He wasn’t going to make her feel like a fool. She’d gotten a reaction out of the man. “It’s like you said, he’ll be on the move tonight. Attempting to find that tape. If he comes in here, that’s breaking and entering.”
Braddock shook his head. “It won’t be him. It’ll be some of his men. Like always.”
Had she done nothing right? “So what do I do? You’re the damned detective.”
“You come home with me, where you’ll be safe.”
“Braddock, I can’t—”
“Don’t argue.” He exhaled a weary breath. Pain flashed across his face. “Celeste Martin’s body was found today.”
CJ’s heart sank into her stomach. “He killed her because of me.”
“No,” Braddock said firmly. “He killed her because he’s a lowlife scumbag.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle. She’d known Celeste was probably dead but hearing it . . . Dear God.
“Pack for an overnight stay,” he ordered. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Wait. She pushed away the misery. His suggestion would ruin everything. “What if Nash sees me leave with you? I didn’t put on that performance for nothing.”
“You leave in your car. Then I’ll leave. We’ll rendezvous at the cabin. I’ll keep you in sight to make sure you don’t have a tail. I’ll give Jenkins the night off.”
She nodded. “I can be ready in five minutes.”
He gave her a nod. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
CJ watched him walk away, her mind reeling. What if this didn’t work? What if Tyrone didn’t show in the morning?
Would she ever know who killed her sister?
She stared up at the small hole in the ceiling over the bed. Why couldn’t there have been a tape in there?
Someone had to know what happened.
Who had taken the tape out of that VCR?
Had Shelley hidden it? Taken it with her to blackmail the person she’d left with that night?
How the hell was CJ ever going to find out?