Conflicting Evidence. Lena Diaz
Читать онлайн книгу.
the propped-open front door.
“What are you doing?” She shook his arm off her shoulders.
“Keeping you from getting arrested for interfering with the execution of a search warrant. Come on. We need to get out of here.”
She mumbled beneath her breath just what she thought of the search warrant but dutifully started toward the front door. When she saw Officer Simmons lounging on her couch like a plant taking root, she stopped again. “Shouldn’t you be rifling through my underwear drawer or something?”
Simmons’s eyes widened.
Colin coughed, then cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he told Simmons.
“What are you apologizing to her for? Why is she—”
He took a firm grip on her arm and steered her out of the house, not slowing down until they were standing beside the open passenger door of his ridiculously tall pickup. White vans surrounded them, several parked right on the pitiful patch of weeds and dirt that used to be her mama’s front lawn.
She gasped when another tech passed her carrying a precious family photo album. “Hey! Give that back. What are you doing with—oh!”
Colin lifted her up and deposited her onto the passenger seat and then reached for the seat belt as if she was a toddler. She snatched it from him and clicked it into place.
“I can fasten my own seat belt. And I could have climbed up into this monster truck of yours without help.”
“No. You couldn’t. You’re so short you could pass for a hobbit.”
She gasped in outrage.
He shut the door with more force than was necessary.
She crossed her arms, jaw clenched as she watched the vultures hauling out more of her things. A few seconds later, Colin hopped up on the driver’s seat without a bit of trouble, making her resent him for his long legs. He tossed her bag onto the bench seat between them and sat there, as if waiting for something.
She clenched her jaw tighter, determined not to say another word.
Thunder rumbled overhead. In the distance, a flash of lightning lit up the sky for a few brief seconds. Yet another summer storm was moving into the area.
“I hope the rain turns the road into a river and those stupid vans slide into a ditch,” she grumbled.
“There it is.” He sounded almost cheerful as he started the engine. “Now we can go.”
She crossed her arms. “You think you know me so well.”
The almost smile that had accompanied his announcement faded and once again the sullen stranger took his place. “No. I don’t think I know you at all. Not anymore, if I ever did.”
His words were like a punch in the gut, reminding her of just how much water had passed beneath the bridge since they’d last been together.
He backed out of the driveway, the wheels kicking up gravel when he headed up the road.
Up.
Not down.
Unfamiliar terrain passed by her window, what little she could see in the moonlight. When she’d lived here before, this road had dead-ended just past her house. She hadn’t realized since coming back that it continued around the mountain.
“Is this a shortcut?” she asked.
“No.” He rounded a curve, the grade getting steeper as they continued higher.
“Colin, where...” White wood fencing appeared off to their left, illuminated by spotlights and marching across the fields as far as she could see. Another curve revealed even more landscape lights, on either side of a long, paved driveway. And at the end sat a huge white two-story farmhouse with an enormous wraparound porch, complete with a porch swing. She smiled sadly at the swing. She’d always wanted one but never had one growing up. Her dad had said their porch was too small.
“Beautiful house. Adore the swing,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Is this where we’re going?”
He nodded.
“Who lives there? Another police officer? You’re going to have someone else ask me questions about Brian?”
He shook his head and turned up the drive. When they reached the garage, he pressed a button in the roof of his truck and the door began to rise.
“This is your house?”
“I built it a handful of years ago.”
He pulled into the three-car garage. An expensive-looking black sports car of some type was parked two spaces away.
“I thought you had a chalet on Skyline Drive?”
He shot her a surprised glance. “I used to. How did you know about the chalet? I bought it a year after you left.” He cut the engine.
She shrugged, unwilling to admit that she’d ruthlessly grilled an old friend for information about Colin after being forced to move to Memphis. “One of dad’s clients or mom’s old church friends probably mentioned it on the phone after we first left. But I never knew you built a new home a few miles up the road from mine. Why did you? Why here?”
He hesitated. “The land was available, the area familiar. No neighbors to worry about.”
“And you just happened to build a white two-story farmhouse surrounded by acres of white fencing? With a porch swing? Like we talked about building together one day?”
His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. “I’ve always liked this style of home. Don’t read anything into it.”
She jerked back, and hated that she had. He’d hurt her, again, and she seemed helpless to hide it every time one of his barbs hit the bullseye.
His expression softened with regret. “Peyton—”
“I’ll get the door myself this time.” She grabbed her purse and overnight bag and hopped out of the truck before he could get out and help her. She stumbled but considered it a victory that she didn’t do a face-plant on the pristine gray-painted floor of the garage. In comparison, her garage had cracks and oil stains all over the place from her constantly leaking SUV. She’d be afraid to park her car in something this clean.
Both of them were silent as he led the way into the house.
Similar to her home, the garage led into a laundry/mudroom. But that was where the similarities ended. They walked down a wide back hall with several doors, all closed. A cased opening led them toward the front of the house, around a concrete-and-metal staircase into a massive vaulted family room. They finally stopped in the kitchen in the back-left corner of the house.
Her mouth dropped open. She nearly drooled. What she’d considered to be a high-end redesign of her own kitchen seemed like a joke compared to Colin’s. It was completely open to the main room with a massive island the only separation. Four saddle-style bar stools covered in black leather with matching black iron legs were snugged up beneath the overhang of the island on the side facing the family room. There wasn’t a table and chairs anywhere that she saw. And she hadn’t seen a dining room on their quick trip through the house. She wondered if he ate all his meals at the island or off trays in front of the television like she tended to do.
The ceilings soared up two stories high with skylights that allowed a breathtaking view of the stars. During the day, it would be awash with sunlight. Just like they’d imagined when they’d talked about their future together and the house where they one day hoped to live.
He opened a door and flipped on the light switch. “I wanted to show you the pantry since you were worried about baking supplies. My mom insists on keeping it stocked for when she comes over for family gatherings. She enjoys baking too, like you and your mom. I imagine most of what you need is in here.”
She