Chapter 43

An hour later, Brogan still didn’t want to let go of Melender. The visual of Smith with a gun, Quentin bleeding on the floor, and Melender held hostage had faded, but the emotions pulsating throughout his body had not. He’d guided her to an old stone garden bench pushed against one wall and sat, tugging her down beside him. Now she rested against him with her head buried in his shoulder and her arms around his waist. All the tension of the past few hours drained away as he held Melender close. Paramedics had whisked Quentin to the hospital, but cops and crime scene technicians milled about processing the scene while he and Melender nestled in a cocoon of relief. Brogan used the oasis to thank God for her safety and for Quentin to recover.

“Brogan?”

He lifted his head to see Livingston. “Hey.”

“How is she?” The detective spoke softly.

Brogan glanced down at Melender, who had closed her eyes. Her breathing had slowed to a steady cadence. “Okay, I think.”

“She asleep?”

“Maybe.” Brogan didn’t want to move to find out, content with the warmth of her body so close to his. He brushed his hand down her back over the long single braid, the gesture more intimate than he’d intended, but he found himself not caring what Livingston thought.

“You two need to give statements, but given everything’s that happened, I’m sending you both home for the night.”

Brogan nodded his thanks.

“Come by the station in the morning, say ten o’clock, to give your statements. I know you have questions, so we can address those tomorrow too.” Livingston pulled out his phone. “Excuse me. I’ve got to take this call.”

As Livingston left, Seth approached. “Hey.”

“What did Fallon say?” Brogan had asked his colleague to update their editor on the evening’s events.

“He’s waiting for your story.” Seth bounced lightly on his toes. “I got some amazing shots with my phone, and statements from the police.”

“Great.” He shifted slightly and accidentally jostled Melender, who lifted her head.

“Brogan?” The breathy tone of her voice sent his pulse racing. As he looked down at her mouth, the desire to kiss her nearly overwhelmed him.

Brogan yanked his gaze from her lips. “Let’s go home.” Brogan helped her upright even though he longed to pull her closer. Later, Lord willing, there would be a more opportune time for a kiss.

“Don’t we need to give statements to the police?” She hid a yawn behind her hand, then stretched her arms. A shadow of pain crossed her face as she put a hand on her shoulder, sharply reminding Brogan of all she had been through these past hours.

“Livingston said we could come to the station in the morning.” Brogan rose, extending his hand to her. “Come on. Seth will drive us back to the Trents.”

“Okay.” She accepted his assistance, tucking her hand in his. Once standing, Brogan drew her hand through the crook of his arm to pull her closer. “Hi, Seth.”

“Hello, Melender. I’m glad you’re okay.” Seth smiled, then led the way through the throng of police officers and crime scene technicians.

Brogan skirted the blood stain covering the middle of the floor. “Any word on how Quentin’s doing?”

“He’s at the hospital,” Seth said.

Brogan kept Melender close as they walked into the cooler night air. A full moon shone brightly above the treetops. The moonlight picked up the silvery highlights of her hair. Brogan made a mental note to take Melender on a walk during the next full moon when he could take full advantage of the romantic atmosphere.

“Is Smith his real name?” Melender asked as they paused for Seth to chirp open the car.

“Ironically, yes.” Brogan opened the back door for Melender, then climbed in beside her.

Seth got behind the wheel and started the car. “Gonna treat me like an Uber driver, eh?”

“Yep.” Brogan fastened his seatbelt.

Melender clicked hers into place. “Did you know Smith used to work for a senator?”

Brogan nodded. “Senator Johnston of Virginia.”

“A couple of days before Jesse went missing, I overheard the senator, Smith, and my uncle talking at one of the parties Ruby and Quentin threw that summer.” Melender sounded sad, and Brogan reached across to hold her hand.

“What were they talking about?” Brogan used his thumb to gently massage her hand.

“Gold mining. Quentin wanted the rights to an old gold mine that straddled the border of the Shenandoah National Park. The senator was helping him get federal permission to explore and potentially open the mine. But with part of it in the park, permission would have been denied outright. An old map Smith found put the park borders a little bit more to the west, which gave them more wiggle room for the permit.”

Brogan’s stomach clenched. In the back of his mind, he’d known there had to be more to Quentin’s putting the blame on Melender than a desire to protect Jared and Jillian. “They must have realized you overheard the exchange.”

“That’s what Smith said. I think Quentin called Smith after Jared phoned him with the news about Jesse. Smith saw an opportunity to get rid of me as well as have Quentin in his debt. And have a clear way forward for the mining permit. Win-win all around.”

“Except for you.” Brogan tightened his fingers around hers.

“I was expendable. The orphan niece from the mountains.” Her voice hitched, and her hand trembled in his. “I can’t even go home.”

Brogan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Ruby sold Sudie’s cabin.”

The pain behind those words tore at his heart. “I’m so sorry, Melender.”

“Me too.” She sighed again. “It’s probably for the best.”

“How’s that?” The pain behind those words tore at his heart, but at the same time, he mentally fist-pumped the air. A tinge of guilt crept in at his elation. He considered coming clean about wanting her to remain in the area so they could see one another on a regular basis, but he opted to wait and hear her out.

“When I was inside, I used to long for the quietness of the mountains. But now, I find I don’t mind people so much.”

Her words made him bold, even with Seth probably eavesdropping from the driver’s seat. “Anyone in particular you like to be around?”

Their eyes met. She raised her free hand to cup his cheek. “Yes. A certain journalist with a pair of blue eyes and a talent for helping me out of trouble.”