When his eyes watered, he took a breath and sank deeper into her sofa. Misery personified.
“I cut him out of my life, Jessie. A preemptive strike. A kid’s way of saving face, I guess.” He shook his head, unable to look her in the eye. “As a kid, I was so angry all the time. Somehow, I lost my place. I let my anger take over until I didn’t know who I was or where I fit anymore. It became easier to be alone.”
She understood what he meant, completely.
“And I wanted to distance myself from my old man, and changing my name seemed like a good idea at the time my parents got their divorce. After that, it got simpler to reinvent a whole new me.”
A tear lost its hold and trailed down his cheek. He never bothered wiping it away. “But my dad’s investigation…when he rescued you and those kids? That really ate him up. There wasn’t much left, especially after…”
“What happened, Seth? Tell me.” She reached for his hand and held it.
Guilt grabbed her. Until Seth’s bail hearing, she hadn’t thought about the man who’d saved her life—a self-preservation tactic. Those days of terror were buried deep in the damaged psyche of a child—only resurrected by the nightmares that still plagued her.
“My dad began to drink…a lot. Eventually, we noticed he’d changed. Doctors told us the alcohol masked the symptoms of dementia caused by a series of strokes. But by then it was too late. We had to hospitalize him. He needed long-term care.” He clenched his jaw. “I got used to him being absent from my life, but inside it still hurts, you know? And I never got a chance to really talk with him. Hell, I’ve got more baggage than Samsonite.”
She knew his attempt at humor was a defense mechanism, a familiar tactic she favored, too. But of all people, she saw behind it, recognizing the crack in the foundation of his life that would remain broken.
“I’ve never heard you mention family. I always got the sense you were alone, Seth. How’s your mom holding up?”
“She isn’t, not anymore.” He shook his head and squeezed her hand. “Mom died a year ago. And now my father’s care is my responsibility. Ironic, huh? He’s got no one else. Not really. So I’m taking time to sort things out.”
Seth had revealed a great deal, but she saw there was more.
“You’re not telling me something. What is it?”
For the first time, he fixed his gaze on her.
“Look, Jessie. This thing with my dad had been between him and me. But as his mind deteriorated, I had to find answers somewhere. I had to come to terms with it, but I want you to know the real reason I made contact with you…after all these years.”
“What do you mean…made contact?”
“I used my dad’s old case files to find you. I had your name and other information to track you down,” he finally admitted, and let go of her hand. “It was my only way to understand him. Don’t you see?”
“How did you get the Millstone files? That’s police property.” She asked the question, more out of shock than any real concern for police protocol.
“He kept copies of everything. He’d been obsessed with that case. As far as I know, it still haunts him, even in his condition.” He leaned forward and grabbed her arm after a tear slid down her cheek.
“Jessie, I needed to understand his fixation.” He brushed her tear away with a finger. “And the way I saw it, there was only one way to do that. I had to track down his kids, the ones he’d saved—to know my family’s sacrifice had been worth it.”
He let the revelation sink in, but when she only stared at him in disbelief, he added, “I’m not proud of why I did it, but, Jessie, I’m beginning to understand how he felt. It’s something I have to finish, so I can…let it go.”
“And Mandy? Was she…?” She fought the emotion welling in her throat, dreading his answer.
“Yes. She was part of your nightmare, Jessie. She was there…in that house. Mandy was one of my father’s kids.”
Jess shut her eyes and took a deep breath, desperately trying to stifle the sickening feeling that gripped her now. She tried digesting what he’d told her, to put it into perspective, but a stark image assaulted her mind like a virulent disease. The blurred face of a crank-addicted hooker—stabbed to death in a cheap motel room—suddenly shifted into focus.
And it was like looking in a mirror.
“We were both there…in that house?” She opened her eyes and stared past him, not really seeing Seth, only feeling his hands pulling her close. “Her life could have been mine.”
“No, Jessie. You survived. You were stronger than Mandy,” he insisted. “Hell, you’re the strongest person I know. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Seth nudged her chin with his finger and fixed his dark eyes on her, forcing her to look at him. He brushed a strand of hair from her face and let his finger trail down her cheek. His tenderness had shocked her, but when he lowered his lips to hers—for an instant—she simply let go. His lips pressed to hers, a warm, comforting touch. She craved the intimacy. It felt right, and she gave in to the sensation, needing to be held. He pulled her to his chest and caressed her.
But eventually, the shock had worn off, and she realized what was happening. That was when she reacted.
“Seth, what are you…” Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she pulled away from him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Seth scrambled to his feet and stood. He backed away from the sofa and headed across the room. His face flushed pink.
Jess had never seen it coming. Had she misread what he’d done, made more out of it than was there? She replayed the moment in her head and found it hard to misinterpret what had happened.
Seth had kissed her. And damned if she hadn’t returned the favor.
CHAPTER 15
Chicago suburbs
Two hours later
Being the bearer of bad news about Seth Harper didn’t sit well with Ray Garza, but it was a hair better than sharing it over the phone. He hoped Sam Cooper would appreciate the difference.
With a hand on his steering wheel, he leaned forward and held up a note with an address scribbled on it. The light coming off a nearby streetlamp was enough to see the house number as he drove through the older residential neighborhood, a street lined with small, well-kept bungalows. He’d never been to Sam Cooper’s house, but the homey street suited her.
One more block.
Nudging the gas pedal, he felt anxious about seeing her, a strange mix of feelings that were hard to unravel. Emotions were a black hole he had no patience for. Part of him couldn’t wait to see her—like a damned kid with a crush—but another side wished he were in better control. Hell, he was a seasoned cop. He should know better.
From the first day he’d seen her in the squad room, he had to stifle how he felt. And her being smart and a good cop made his infatuation worse. He wondered if she felt the same, but he didn’t trust his instincts where women were concerned. Taking things slow worked best. At least, that was what he told himself.
Ray knew he’d taken a risk coming to her home, when he could have called. But in his mind, a phone call wouldn’t cut it. Not with the news he had. It was late, but not completely out of line. He only wished he had a better reason for showing up on her doorstep.
He found her home and parked behind her vehicle in the drive. The small brick bungalow had interior lights coming from what he guessed was a living-room window with curtains drawn. The front stoop and the flower beds beneath the porch were lit. It reminded him of his parents’ place, when they were alive.
He hit the front buzzer, and she answered the door wearing jeans and a black CPD T-shirt, her hair in a ponytail. The word—CUTE—could have been stamped on her forehead without lying.