Shielding the Suspect. C.J. Miller
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Her memories might come back, but the stress she’s under could be concealing something important.”
Susan wouldn’t withhold information if she had it. “Why can’t you talk to Susan?” Harris was the one trained in FBI interview and profiling tactics.
“Two reasons. My career gives me a few more boundaries. I’m working an operation at the moment and I can’t bail out or juggle both. Too much is at stake. Second reason, and more importantly, you know Susan better than I do. You can help her remember.”
It had taken Brady time to earn Susan’s trust and when they’d broken up, he was sure that trust had been demolished. “What makes you think Susan will talk to me about the murder?” Brady hadn’t told his family the details of why their relationship had ended or about her visit to the hospital when he’d been a world-class jerk to her.
“You’re a Truman. Your brother needs you. You’ll do whatever is necessary to help Reilly.”
Harris was right. The Trumans stood by each other. It was how they’d been raised. Integrity, honor and loyalty defined their family. This situation had to be killing Reilly and putting a strain on his marriage to Haley. They were a strong family and Brady felt like the weak link. Could he be useful in his current state? What if he made it worse for Susan and Reilly?
“Anything else?” Brady asked, shoving aside his self-pity. The idea of his brother suffering and having done nothing wrong had spurred him to act.
Harris hesitated. “There is one more thing. Reilly is worried about Susan. We don’t know why she wasn’t also a victim and why she didn’t sustain physical injuries the night Justin died. Since the police have decided to focus on Susan as a suspect, they’re not interested in providing her with police protection. Reilly believes there’s more going on and Susan’s not out of danger yet. While you’re helping her sort this out, you need to look out for her.”
Spending time with Susan had convoluted mess written all over it. He wasn’t the soldier he’d been before his accident. His body was damaged and weakened, his confidence shaken. Was he capable of protecting her from a killer? What if she was attacked? Would he respond and protect her or hesitate and get her killed?
Then again, what choice did he have? His brothers needed him. So did Susan. Despite the ugly history, he would talk to her and do what he could to help.
* * *
The constant gnawing dread never let up. Susan Prescott clocked out of work, sliding her employee badge through the gallery’s timekeeping system. It had been another horrendous day. She was leaving via the side entrance, hoping the reporters waiting to speak with her would remain in the front. She altered her route every day to avoid a confrontation.
Susan didn’t have answers to the questions they asked. Why had she killed Justin? Where had she put the body? Why wouldn’t she give closure to his family?
How did someone answer those questions? They were meant to bait her into saying something she’d regret. She didn’t know anything about Justin’s murder. She hadn’t been involved. At least, she didn’t think she had. Frustration worked at her. Why couldn’t she remember?
Susan pushed open the side door. Reporters and cameramen snapped to attention and began shouting at her. A jolt of anxiety ripped through her. Susan focused on her car parked a few yards away, blinking back the tears that sprung to her eyes, a combination of sadness, humiliation and grief. Anything she said would make it worse, but she wanted to shout the only answer she knew, which was she didn’t know anything.
A hand grasped her elbow and Susan pulled her arm free, spinning and coming face-to-face with Brady Truman. The last man she’d have expected outside the gallery. He looked disheveled and tired, not that she was in any position to judge. She was sure she looked worse. The aggravating thing about Brady was that even exhausted and unkempt, his charisma and good looks were undeniable. Every part of him tempted her.
It wasn’t the time to fixate on Brady’s tremendous appeal. Extending one muscular arm in front of them, he led her through the crowd, forming a path to her car. He took her keys from her hand, unlocked the doors and helped her into the passenger side. He climbed in the driver’s seat, fastened his seat belt, held down the horn in warning to the media to move and drove them away from the gallery and the crowd.
Susan shook off her shock and confusion. “What are you doing here? You told me to leave you alone.” She had tried to talk to him in the hospital. He hadn’t been interested in hearing what she had to say.
“I need to talk to you.”
Being this close to Brady, her heart raced and her skin tingled. He still had that effect on her. “About what?” The answer snapped to mind as the words left her mouth. “Look, if this is about Reilly, I’m sorry. I know he was placed on admin leave because he was at the scene. He’s my friend, and he and Haley have been wonderful to me. I never meant for that—”
Brady shook his head. “I’m not here to blame you. I’m here to talk. I know you, Susan. I know you’re a good, honest person. I want you to tell me what happened with Justin the night he died.”
Susan stared at him. She would have told him if she could. “I don’t know what happened to Justin. I didn’t kill him.”
“I know that.”
Susan stared at Brady for a long moment. “You don’t think I killed him?” Most everyone else did. Why not Brady?
“Things ended badly between us. That doesn’t mean I think you killed the next guy you dated,” Brady said.
A show of support from one of the last places she’d expected it. “Thank you for believing me, but I don’t see what I can do to help Reilly.”
Brady pulled her car to the side of the road and parked. He faced her. “Susan, come on. It’s me. I know how your mind works. This isn’t the first time you’ve been through something terrible and blocked it out. When you get upset, you shut down. I know what this must be like for you.”
Susan rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “You know what this is like? Sorry, no, you don’t.” Justin was dead and everyone blamed her. Brady didn’t understand what that felt like.
“Susan, I know you better than almost anyone.”
Susan had trusted Brady once and confided in him her deepest thoughts. He had been her go-to person. He had been the man she had wanted to spend her life with. That was the past and she’d put it behind her. “You don’t know me anymore. Things have changed.”
“Things have changed. People don’t change. Not that much.”
“Brady, I’m in the middle of a disaster. I can’t deal with you or with whatever the reason is that you’re here.” Her words were similar to the ones he had spoken to her six months before, when he was a recovering patient in the hospital. They had wounded her fiercely. She hoped her words didn’t have the same effect on him.
“I can help you,” Brady said. His voice was low and soft.
Right. Help her how? Did he realize how bad her life had become? If he wanted her to help clear Reilly’s name, she didn’t think she could. “If anyone would listen to me, I would tell them that Reilly showed up at the scene and didn’t have a thing to do with Justin’s death. The police don’t want to hear my side of the story.” Susan had worked for the police as a freelance sketch artist for the past five years and it hurt that people who she’d considered friends had turned their backs on her.
“I know.” Compassion laced his voice.
“I’m followed everywhere by the media.”
“I know.”
“The mayor, Justin’s family and the police think I’m responsible for Justin’s death.”
“I know,” he said.
His simple, two word answers were annoying her. “Then you know