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Authors: Meg Jackson
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legal action taken against Pieter Volanis.
“Maybe legally,” he said. “But in terms of
reputation…well, people in a town like this, they like to write their own
history. And they’ve decided Pieter killed her. And he didn’t.”
“Well, what do you really think will happen if you do clear his name? I mean, will anyone
even care? It was so long ago…her parents are gone, I mean people still talk
about it sometimes but…”
“Listen,” Kennick said, now crossing his arms across
his chest. “I don’t actually give a fuck what happens after. But my clan
doesn’t like taking credit for shit we didn’t do. It’s a matter of honor, a
matter of legacy. The last thing Dad asked of us was to clear his name, and
that’s what we’re going to do.”
His eyes flashed as he spoke of honor and legacy. Kim
tried to understand, and could only draw up thoughts of her hometown, the way
she wanted to save it. She loathed the idea of Kingdom going down the road it
was headed; sooner or later, if things didn’t improve, it would be just another
poster town for poverty, meth, and crime. Kennick had his family. Kim had her
town.
“Okay,” she finally said. “I get it. But do you really
have enough evidence to prove that Pieter didn’t do it? I mean, it’s been
thirty years. Can’t exactly exhume the body for DNA testing or fingerprints.
And all that stuff on the case – ballistics, all that – I mean, do you really
think it hasn’t been gone over and over and over already? It’s not like you’re
the first person to try and crack the case, or whatever.”
She felt a little silly using the old cliché of “crack
the case”. She felt a little silly about the whole conversation. Was she
seriously getting herself pulled into some true crime novel, some Grisham
paperback? She was an assistant in the Mayor’s office, she had no business
getting involved in a thirty-year old murder.
Who says
you have to get involved, she thought suddenly. You can walk away right now. Deal with Kennick and his people’s
business in town without having to muddy your boots with his ulterior motives.
Well, the answer to that riddle was simple.
Embarrassingly simple. She wanted any excuse she could get to spend more time
in this tall, dark, handsome gypsy’s company. She couldn’t deny the way her
body flushed whenever she saw him, the way her heart beat just a hint faster.
Even now, as they talked about this direly serious subject, her eyes never
stilled, constantly moving across his body, focusing on this or that tattoo,
ogling those wide, weathered hands, taking in the thick vein that ran down his
muscled forearm.
“What do you know about the case?” Kennick asked,
bringing his beer to his lips and gulping smoothly, She watched his Adam’s
apple, small but clearly visible, bob slightly. She wondered what it would feel
like to be that cold beer, slipping down his throat…
“Not much,” she said, corralling her thoughts back to
the matter at hand. She spoke truthfully; she’d been born after most of the
hubbub had died down. She’d read up on it a bit after Ricky had left the day
before. Mostly, she could remember the occasional report in the newspaper –
usually tucked in the middle, never on the front page – when a journalist
caught wind of some new lead the detectives were following. All those leads,
inevitably, went nowhere. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen such
an article; not since she was a teenager, at least.
“Do you know exactly why Pieter Volanis was cleared of charges?”
Again, Kim shrugged. She didn’t.
“I figured it was just, you know, not enough concrete
evidence against him,” she said. Kennick rolled his tongue across his mouth,
from cheek to cheek, thoughtfully. Fuck,
that tongue, Kim thought, distracted once more. Every move this man made
seemed designed to turn her on more and more. She really needed to get her
“Maybe legally,” he said. “But in terms of
reputation…well, people in a town like this, they like to write their own
history. And they’ve decided Pieter killed her. And he didn’t.”
“Well, what do you really think will happen if you do clear his name? I mean, will anyone
even care? It was so long ago…her parents are gone, I mean people still talk
about it sometimes but…”
“Listen,” Kennick said, now crossing his arms across
his chest. “I don’t actually give a fuck what happens after. But my clan
doesn’t like taking credit for shit we didn’t do. It’s a matter of honor, a
matter of legacy. The last thing Dad asked of us was to clear his name, and
that’s what we’re going to do.”
His eyes flashed as he spoke of honor and legacy. Kim
tried to understand, and could only draw up thoughts of her hometown, the way
she wanted to save it. She loathed the idea of Kingdom going down the road it
was headed; sooner or later, if things didn’t improve, it would be just another
poster town for poverty, meth, and crime. Kennick had his family. Kim had her
town.
“Okay,” she finally said. “I get it. But do you really
have enough evidence to prove that Pieter didn’t do it? I mean, it’s been
thirty years. Can’t exactly exhume the body for DNA testing or fingerprints.
And all that stuff on the case – ballistics, all that – I mean, do you really
think it hasn’t been gone over and over and over already? It’s not like you’re
the first person to try and crack the case, or whatever.”
She felt a little silly using the old cliché of “crack
the case”. She felt a little silly about the whole conversation. Was she
seriously getting herself pulled into some true crime novel, some Grisham
paperback? She was an assistant in the Mayor’s office, she had no business
getting involved in a thirty-year old murder.
Who says
you have to get involved, she thought suddenly. You can walk away right now. Deal with Kennick and his people’s
business in town without having to muddy your boots with his ulterior motives.
Well, the answer to that riddle was simple.
Embarrassingly simple. She wanted any excuse she could get to spend more time
in this tall, dark, handsome gypsy’s company. She couldn’t deny the way her
body flushed whenever she saw him, the way her heart beat just a hint faster.
Even now, as they talked about this direly serious subject, her eyes never
stilled, constantly moving across his body, focusing on this or that tattoo,
ogling those wide, weathered hands, taking in the thick vein that ran down his
muscled forearm.
“What do you know about the case?” Kennick asked,
bringing his beer to his lips and gulping smoothly, She watched his Adam’s
apple, small but clearly visible, bob slightly. She wondered what it would feel
like to be that cold beer, slipping down his throat…
“Not much,” she said, corralling her thoughts back to
the matter at hand. She spoke truthfully; she’d been born after most of the
hubbub had died down. She’d read up on it a bit after Ricky had left the day
before. Mostly, she could remember the occasional report in the newspaper –
usually tucked in the middle, never on the front page – when a journalist
caught wind of some new lead the detectives were following. All those leads,
inevitably, went nowhere. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen such
an article; not since she was a teenager, at least.
“Do you know exactly why Pieter Volanis was cleared of charges?”
Again, Kim shrugged. She didn’t.
“I figured it was just, you know, not enough concrete
evidence against him,” she said. Kennick rolled his tongue across his mouth,
from cheek to cheek, thoughtfully. Fuck,
that tongue, Kim thought, distracted once more. Every move this man made
seemed designed to turn her on more and more. She really needed to get her
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