Criminal Behaviour. Amanda Stevens
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ADDIE STOOD WITH her face to the sun, basking in the light as she brushed dust from her hair. Even covered in dirt and grime, she looked good. Ethan was glad for his sunglasses so he could pretend not to stare.
He and some of the officers had easily hauled her up from the well, and she seemed no worse for the wear. But she hadn’t lingered, even when her partner had insisted on going down to have a look for himself. Addie had watched for a moment and then, with a shudder, turned and disappeared. Ethan had followed her out into the sun. After the creepy confines of that house, he welcomed the heat, even the trickle of sweat he could feel between his shoulder blades.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I just needed some air. Being down in that well and knowing what he used it for...knowing what he did to all those people...it got to me for a minute.”
Ethan nodded. “It gets to all of us now and then, but that’s a good thing. You don’t ever want to feel numb to what one human being can do to another. You never want to lose your ability to be shocked.”
If she thought that sentiment strange coming from him—the son of a profiler who had gone to the dark side—she didn’t say so. “You see this sort of thing more than I do. How do you cope?”
“I’d be lying if I said I leave it at the office. But I try to find productive ways to fill up my spare time. I run. I listen to music and read books. Sometimes I visit museums and art galleries just to remind myself that human beings are also capable of creating great beauty.”
“That sounds amazingly well adjusted. Right now, I just want a good, stiff drink.” She wiped her hands down the sides of her jeans as if trying to cleanse herself of the images.
Ethan found himself checking out her fingers to make sure she hadn’t gotten married or engaged since last he’d heard. No diamonds that he could discern, but the sun bouncing off the detective shield she’d clipped to her waist was blinding.
“Congratulations, by the way.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “For what?”
He nodded toward her badge. “You made detective in record time, I see.”
Her eyes flashed. “I didn’t set any records. And there were plenty of times when I never thought I’d make it. This shield didn’t just fall into my lap. I worked hard for it.”
He’d obviously hit a nerve. Like him, she’d probably battled whispers of nepotism for most of her career. “I never thought otherwise,” he said. “My congratulations were sincere.”
“Thank you.” She glanced away for a moment as if trying to puzzle something out. Her gaze came back to him reluctantly. “You seem different.”
“Because I’m happy for your success?”
A frown flitted across her brow. “No. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“It’s been ten years. I expect we’re both different people.”
“Agreed. At the very least, I like to think I’m a lot less gullible than I used to be.”
Their gazes met, clashed again, but behind the glimmer of hostility, Ethan felt a connection, no matter how fleeting. Or maybe the link was nothing more than wishful thinking, but he found himself drifting back, imagining her smile and the spill of blond hair over her shoulders as she stared down at him through hooded eyes. Adaline Kinsella at twenty-two had been something. At thirty-two... Ethan didn’t dare let himself go there.
She glanced past him down the road to where the black Charger had returned to wait him out. “Friends of yours?”
“No.”
She lifted a brow at his tone. “Enemies?”
“I don’t know.”
“But they’re here because of you.”
“Probably.”
“That car looks official. Tinted windows. No identifying tags or marks. I’m guessing feds.” Her gaze swung back to him. “Why are you here, Ethan? What have you done this time?”
“You don’t pull any punches, do you?”
Any hint of a bond melted in the fierceness of her stare. “I’ve been on the wrong end of your obsession, remember? I recognize the signs. You didn’t come all the way from Quantico just to see me.”
“Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Okay, stop right there.” She gave him a disgusted look. “Don’t even think about playing that card. In case you’ve forgotten, things didn’t end well for us. So don’t pretend this is a sentimental reunion. Be honest for once in your life and tell me why you’re really here.”
“It’s not an easy explanation.”
“It never is with you.” She came down the porch steps. “How did you even know where to find me, anyway? I’ve been away on vacation. I only got back a little while ago, and other than a quick stop at the station, I came straight here.” She shot another glance at the Charger. “If those guys are following me—”
“They’re not. Stop worrying about that car. I’ll handle whoever’s inside. I knew to find you at this house because I overheard someone at police headquarters mention your whereabouts.”
The revelation didn’t please her. “You were at headquarters? Who did you talk to?”
“I didn’t talk to anyone about you. I had a meeting with the deputy chief.”
She looked even more distressed. “Why?”
“That’s for him to say.”
Addie shook her head. “This is crazy. I don’t want to hear any more. Whatever you’re involved in, count me out. Thanks for getting me out of the well. I do appreciate that. But this is the end of the road for us.” She turned and headed for her vehicle. “I’m going home and you can go to...” Down the road, a car door slammed, freezing her for a moment as she glanced over her shoulder.
One of the agents had gotten out of the Charger to stretch, apparently now unconcerned about anonymity. Ethan didn’t recognize him, but like Addie, he knew the guy was a federal agent.
He returned his focus to Addie. She lifted her chin and turned back to her car. He called after her. “I’ve found new evidence in your mother’s case.”
That stopped her again. She turned slowly to face him. “What?”
“I wasn’t lying when I said I came to Charleston to see you, but I’m also here pursuing a lead. I wanted you to know before you heard it from someone else.”
“Is that why you went to see the deputy chief?”
“Like I said, you need to talk to him about that.”
She shoved back a lock of damp hair. “Assuming I believe you, what makes you think I’d ever want any of this dumped on my doorstep?”
“Besides the fact that your mother was murdered? You’re a police detective. You must be interested in justice.”
She said nothing for the longest time, just stood there staring back at him as he searched her face. Her eyes were so much bluer than he remembered. Softer, too, and liquid. They reminded him of a Monet painting he’d seen in the National Gallery.
But right now, those eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “My mother’s case is closed. As far as I’m concerned, justice was served twenty-five years ago when your father was committed to the fourth floor.”
“Maybe. Or maybe an innocent man was framed for something he didn’t do.”
“James Merrick is not an innocent man.” She opened her car door. “I’ve heard enough. I’m not getting sucked back into your delusions. Listening to you almost cost me everything