Read Online Midnight Exposure by Melinda Leigh - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melinda Leigh
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onto a stool at the counter. Sheba planted herself under his chair, having identified Scott as the weak link five minutes after they rescued her from the animal shelter years ago.
“Are those college applications done?”
“Mostly.” Scott shoveled lasagna with speed and precision. Reed did not miss the noodle his son slipped to the dog.
“Mostly?”
Scott downed half a glass of milk. “Dad, I’ll get them done on time. Relax.”
Reed kept his nod silent. There was no changing his son’s basic personality. Scott would never feel any urgency or stress over schoolwork. So, moving on: “I have a question to ask you.”
His son looked up, a forkful of pasta hovering in front of his mouth. “’Kay.”
Reed let the statement out like he’d been holding his breath. “I stopped to see the chief today.”
Cheeks bulging with food, Scott nodded.
Reed searched his son’s eyes for any sign of distress. Mild curiosity blinked back at him. “He asked me to help with one of his cases.”
Scott swallowed. “Is it about the guy they found at the quarry?”
Surprised, Reed answered, “Yes, but please don’t tell anyone. Hugh wants to keep the whole thing quiet for now.”
“OK, but everybody at school knows they found him.” Scott put his fork down. “You’re gonna help him, right?”
“It’d be OK with you?”
“Sure. The chief wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.” Scott pointed to the foil pan on the stove. “Is there more?”
“Uhm. Yes,” Reed answered in a confused fog. Scott was acting very nonchalant about the whole police-work issue.
“Cool.” Scott took his plate to the stove and filled it again. The discussion hadn’t affected his appetite.
Reed had expected his son to be upset at the thought of Reed helping Hugh, especially with a murder case. But Scott was no longer a grieving twelve-year-old. His son was a young man. How much did Scott even remember about the aftermath of his mother’s death? The media coverage had been vicious, but Reed had shielded him as much as possible.
On impulse, Reed blurted out, “I had coffee with that lady tourist this afternoon.”
“The same one that was here yesterday? The lost one?” Scott mumbled around a mouthful of lasagna.
“Yeah.”
“Cool.” Scott finished his second plateful, rose, and rinsed his dish at the sink. “Back to work.” He poured a second glass of milk and took it with him, along with an entire box of graham crackers. The dog followed him, casting a disdainful glance at her bowl on the way.
It hadn’t been easy, but Scott had learned to deal with his mother’s death. At least one of them had. Reed had been so busy helping Scott handle the grief, he hadn’t dealt with his own.
Reed stared at his dinner with no appetite. He covered his untouched plate with tinfoil and stowed it in the refrigerator. Maybe later. After more than five years in an emotional standstill, his life had received a jump start, all because a beautiful redhead had supposedly missed a turn.
Or had she?
Wait. He had no reason to doubt her. He’d been a cop too long. Not everyone had ulterior motives. If he was going to let go of the past, he was going to have to learn to trust people again. The article on R. S. Morgan she’d been reading didn’t mean a thing. It
was
last week’s issue of
The New York Times
. Plenty of people read it. The fact that she’d saved that section of the paper didn’t mean anything other than that she liked art.
He’d still Google her and check with Hugh to see if anything turned up in the background check the chief was sure to run.
As he cleaned up the kitchen, Reed’s thoughts locked on Jayne, and the trauma she’d endured. She wasn’t hiding. She hadn’t even let the parole of her assailant keep her down. He pictured herchin, lifted in rebellion as she’d told him about the prosecutor’s betrayal, and the unyielding set of her shoulders. The posture of a warrior. Fear was her constant companion,
“Are those college applications done?”
“Mostly.” Scott shoveled lasagna with speed and precision. Reed did not miss the noodle his son slipped to the dog.
“Mostly?”
Scott downed half a glass of milk. “Dad, I’ll get them done on time. Relax.”
Reed kept his nod silent. There was no changing his son’s basic personality. Scott would never feel any urgency or stress over schoolwork. So, moving on: “I have a question to ask you.”
His son looked up, a forkful of pasta hovering in front of his mouth. “’Kay.”
Reed let the statement out like he’d been holding his breath. “I stopped to see the chief today.”
Cheeks bulging with food, Scott nodded.
Reed searched his son’s eyes for any sign of distress. Mild curiosity blinked back at him. “He asked me to help with one of his cases.”
Scott swallowed. “Is it about the guy they found at the quarry?”
Surprised, Reed answered, “Yes, but please don’t tell anyone. Hugh wants to keep the whole thing quiet for now.”
“OK, but everybody at school knows they found him.” Scott put his fork down. “You’re gonna help him, right?”
“It’d be OK with you?”
“Sure. The chief wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.” Scott pointed to the foil pan on the stove. “Is there more?”
“Uhm. Yes,” Reed answered in a confused fog. Scott was acting very nonchalant about the whole police-work issue.
“Cool.” Scott took his plate to the stove and filled it again. The discussion hadn’t affected his appetite.
Reed had expected his son to be upset at the thought of Reed helping Hugh, especially with a murder case. But Scott was no longer a grieving twelve-year-old. His son was a young man. How much did Scott even remember about the aftermath of his mother’s death? The media coverage had been vicious, but Reed had shielded him as much as possible.
On impulse, Reed blurted out, “I had coffee with that lady tourist this afternoon.”
“The same one that was here yesterday? The lost one?” Scott mumbled around a mouthful of lasagna.
“Yeah.”
“Cool.” Scott finished his second plateful, rose, and rinsed his dish at the sink. “Back to work.” He poured a second glass of milk and took it with him, along with an entire box of graham crackers. The dog followed him, casting a disdainful glance at her bowl on the way.
It hadn’t been easy, but Scott had learned to deal with his mother’s death. At least one of them had. Reed had been so busy helping Scott handle the grief, he hadn’t dealt with his own.
Reed stared at his dinner with no appetite. He covered his untouched plate with tinfoil and stowed it in the refrigerator. Maybe later. After more than five years in an emotional standstill, his life had received a jump start, all because a beautiful redhead had supposedly missed a turn.
Or had she?
Wait. He had no reason to doubt her. He’d been a cop too long. Not everyone had ulterior motives. If he was going to let go of the past, he was going to have to learn to trust people again. The article on R. S. Morgan she’d been reading didn’t mean a thing. It
was
last week’s issue of
The New York Times
. Plenty of people read it. The fact that she’d saved that section of the paper didn’t mean anything other than that she liked art.
He’d still Google her and check with Hugh to see if anything turned up in the background check the chief was sure to run.
As he cleaned up the kitchen, Reed’s thoughts locked on Jayne, and the trauma she’d endured. She wasn’t hiding. She hadn’t even let the parole of her assailant keep her down. He pictured herchin, lifted in rebellion as she’d told him about the prosecutor’s betrayal, and the unyielding set of her shoulders. The posture of a warrior. Fear was her constant companion,
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