Shielding the Suspect. C.J. Miller
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chalked it up to good-natured competition on the football field. It was only later, after her relationship with Brady was over and she’d been dating Justin, that Justin had explained he’d known Brady from their time in the military. They’d been in basic training together though their careers had taken different paths. Much to his father’s disappointment, Justin had left the air force after a couple of years, preferring work as an accountant, and Brady had remained in the service.
Susan had loved watching Brady play football. Her camera captured him in action as he ran down the field, the look on his face when he caught the ball and his intensity immediately before a big play. She’d planned to take a few of the best shots and arrange them in a photo frame as a gift for his mother. With the holidays coming up, she and Brady had been talking about their plans and Susan had been hoping for an invitation to his parents’ house for Christmas.
Susan had never gotten the opportunity to edit and print the photos for Brady’s mother. Without Brady in her life, it had been one of the loneliest Christmases she could recall.
Brady had meant more to her than she had to him. She had been tied in from her soul. Brady had his own way of connecting and yet keeping her at arm’s length. The only way she knew how to move on was to forget what she could and leave the past behind.
They’d been on unequal emotional footing. If she was going to survive this, she had to be as cold and detached as he was. She was too tired to think of alternative places to stay, but tomorrow, when she was fresh, she would relocate. “Thank you again for helping me. I’ll find another place tomorrow.”
“You can stay as long as you need to, darlin’. I’m not rushing you out. I want to keep you safe.”
Darlin’. A casual endearment he’d used a thousand times in the past. The urge to lean closer and rest her head on his shoulder nearly overpowered her. She could let Brady take the reins and make decisions and figure out what had happened to Justin. But that wouldn’t be safe for her heart. It wouldn’t end well. It couldn’t. She would too easily give him her trust and her heart, and he would leave her again with more questions and more anger.
Susan closed her eyes and sealed off her heart from the barrage of memories and emotions that swirled inside her. Worrying about Brady should fall dead last on her list. She was emotionally debilitated by the events of the week. With a little sleep and time to think, she’d stop picturing Brady taking control, stop imagining Brady as her lover and shut down those worthless feelings for good.
“I have some charcoal and paper if you need it.”
Her eyes popped open at the sound of Brady’s voice. The melodic quality spoke to her, made her feel hot and tingly. Why hadn’t she put those sensuous feelings to rest long ago? He’d walked away from her. She’d reached out to him in the hospital when he might have needed a friend, and he’d rejected her. No explanations, no apologies. Her suspicions rose. “Why do you have charcoal?”
“You made it look easy when you drew. You swore it was therapeutic. When the shrink at the hospital insisted I give a new hobby a shot, I tried drawing.”
Brady had tried drawing with charcoal? He’d never expressed interest in art before. “I’m surprised you gave it a chance. Did you like it?”
“I couldn’t draw anything. I tried. You create beautiful pictures and make it look effortless. Most of my attempts looked like scribbles and smudges a blindfolded preschooler would draw.”
Despite the heaviness of her heart, she laughed. It was a laugh she needed and some of the tension released in her chest. “You need time to work with them,” she said. “Art doesn’t come quickly to everyone. Maybe you’d do better with a different medium. Like photography.” She touched the owl necklace at her neck, combination jewelry and storage device where she kept pictures she cherished. Though photography had been a hobby since her teens, she’d gotten more serious with it when she’d been dating Brady. He’d been an amazing subject. “We offer introductory classes at the gallery.”
“I don’t think I was cut out for artwork,” Brady said. “A hobby that frustrates me isn’t what the shrink has in mind.”
It was the second time he’d mentioned the therapist and it startled her. Brady was normally closed off about anything that affected him emotionally. She’d suspected his physical injuries had a deeper impact on him. To what degree was he coping? Losing his position with the pararescuemen had to have devastated him. His career had meant a great deal to him. He’d put it before everything else. Including her.
“Why the mighty frown?” he asked.
Susan needed to better censor her facial expressions. Especially around Brady. A natural observer, he watched the world around him and was excellent at deciphering thoughts and feelings from a look, a movement or a hand motion. Despite his outgoing and high-energy nature, when he wanted to relax, he could sit for hours and observe. They had done that together some days. She with her sketch pad in her lap, using what she saw for inspiration and Brady with his arm around her. She slammed closed the door on those memories. They were too painful to revisit now.
“Just thinking.” She had enough problems in her life. She didn’t need to give specifics.
“We’ll work this out.”
He sounded sure of himself and that was classic Brady. Determined when he set his mind to it. But if solving the case were that easy, the police would have done so by now. Granted, from the beginning the lead investigator had seemed bent on blaming her.
“The police haven’t come up with anything and all that’s keeping me out of jail is that Justin’s body hasn’t been found.” Sadness bit into her. Justin deserved a proper burial to bring closure to his family and the people who’d loved him.
A muscle flexed in Brady’s jaw. “The killer probably disposed of the body in the water. It would be difficult to carry it down the pier without being seen.”
“The police divers haven’t found anything yet. They’re waiting for a body to wash up on shore,” Susan said. The image of Justin’s body floating in the water made her sick.
“The detective in charge of the case is eager to wrap up the investigation and please the mayor and Justin’s father. He’s looking for a promotion. He’s taking the most likely suspect and the most likely scenario and swallowing it as fact,” Brady said.
Susan had gotten the same impression from the police, that they either hadn’t found other suspects or hadn’t considered them. “I don’t know what other options they have.”
“They can do better. Since it’s unlikely they will, it’s up to us. You were at the scene. You know what happened. You can remember.”
She whirled on him. “I can’t, Brady. If you think I’m lying about remembering, you can let me out of the truck now. If I knew what happened, I would tell you. For that matter, I would have told the police. That night is a black box. I feel terrible about it. I feel terrible knowing Justin died and I was in the room. I didn’t do anything to stop it. I haven’t been useful in helping the police find his killer. I haven’t remembered anything important. I don’t know what happened that night.”
Susan let out her breath in a rush. His questions called to mind her doubts about her involvement. She couldn’t imagine a scenario where she would physically assault Justin, but the few scraps of evidence pointed to her. Which is why she hadn’t told the police that she had broken up with Justin. It would only make her look guiltier. She’d realized she’d never been in love with him, and pretending and lying to herself was a mistake. Starting a relationship with Justin when her heart was broken over Brady hadn’t worked. Susan should have ended the relationship before it escalated into a marriage proposal. Her track record with men was pathetic.
First Brady, then Justin. When it came to love, she made terrible decisions. “I don’t know what happened,” she repeated.
“Whoa, whoa,” Brady said, holding up his palm. “I wasn’t accusing you. I know you can’t remember. Harris thinks given