Chapter 9

NINE

The next morning, Kenzie rolled over in bed to stare at the ceiling, her mind replaying the events of yesterday, but mostly she couldn't get the look in Micah's mother's eyes out of her head.

Gratitude. Surprise. Relief. Resignation. Grief. Guilt. Weariness. A bone-deep tired that all the sleep in the world wouldn't be able to dispel. The one thing Kenzie didn't remember seeing was hope.

And that bothered her.

Everyone needed hope.

It took her thirty minutes to dress for her day of ... what? Some days she hated not being on the schedule. Technically, she was on call 24/7, but when it was her day off and no calls came in ...

Okay, no calls was a good thing. She climbed out of bed and walked to the window to peer through the blinds. Yep, her "bodyguards" were still there. She itched to take a run or hop on her bike and get in a few miles on her favorite trails around Lake City, but the fact that Cole thought she needed security held her back. He had called in a few favors, and officers and the other off-duty unit members had stayed on her home.

The clock said she'd actually slept for seven solid hours, and that spoke volumes as to how tired she'd been.

Cole had offered to stay on her couch once more last night and she'd refused. She had protection on her home, her gun on her end table, and her alarm armed. Having Cole in her home would rattle her too much to relax. That very fact bothered her on so many levels. Why was she attracted to him all of a sudden?

She snorted. If she were honest, it wasn't all of a sudden. She'd always thought Cole was good-looking but had considered him so far out of her league she hadn't allowed herself to crush on him. So why did her attraction meter go off every time he walked in the room?

It was ridiculous and she needed to get over it.

Her phone buzzed on the pillow, and she unplugged it from the charger to see a text from Cole.

I know today is your day off, but you up to trying to track down the guy who set us up yesterday?

More than up to it.

I figured. I thought we'd head to the farmers' market and see what kind of fruit that label belongs to.

Pick you up in 30?

You really think that label is going to tell us anything?

No idea, but figured it wouldn't hurt to try. You game?

I'll be ready.

Kenzie set her phone aside and frowned. Why was he being so chummy with her lately? Was it really because he was trying to get the other guys to warm up to her? Maybe. Or maybe he had another motive.

Like what?

No idea.

Not that she wasn't grateful for the change, but it was ... unnerving. Weird. Just like her stupid attraction to him. He was still out of her league, and the quicker she got that through her head, the better off she'd be.

Her phone buzzed again. This time with a call from her father. Great. Ignore or answer? She swiped the screen. "Hey, Dad."

"I need you to take me to the cemetery today."

Kenzie froze. "Why?" The word slipped out even though she already knew the answer.

"Why?" He snorted. "To visit your mom, of course."

"I didn't know we were doing that today. No one told me." He went a couple of times a week, but it was usually one of her brothers who took him.

He swore and she grimaced. Her mother's death, his injuries from the wreck, the rumors swirling about him being a dirty cop, and his subsequent "forced" retirement from the force had turned him into a very bitter man. Being around his abrasive bad attitude was like fingernails on a chalkboard to her nerves. And it hurt, as it seemed to be reserved mostly for her. She loved him but spent as little time as possible with him for her own mental health.

"I can't go to the cemetery today, Dad, I'm sorry. I already have plans."

"More important than visiting your mother?"

"Dad..." She sighed. "I get that you want to visit her grave, but Mom's not there. She's in heaven living the good life, and she would want you to do the same—as much as possible during our limited time here on earth."

Click.

Another sigh mixed with a groan slipped from her, and she shook her head, trying to ignore the sudden surge of guilt. Why did she bother? She should just keep her mouth shut.

He hated being in a wheelchair and she didn't blame him for that. Of course not. But he refused to even try to make peace with it. And after all these years, she'd almost lost hope that he ever would.

She called him back. He answered on the first ring. "What time are you wanting to go?" she asked.

"This afternoon around three o'clock."

She bit back another sigh. "I'll see what I can do. Can I text you?" He fell silent. "Dad?"

"Really?"

She blinked at the hint of vulnerability in his tone. "Yes. Really."

"Good. I'll be ready. You can drive the van." He hung up again. Whatever she'd heard in his voice was gone, and now she wondered if she'd imagined it. And she hated driving his van. It was big and bulky and needed a new muffler.

But she'd do it just like she always did.

It didn't take her long to shower and get ready for the day. When she walked into her kitchen, she could almost believe the previous couple of days were just a bad dream.

Except now a tension headache was starting behind her eyes. She loved her dad, she did. She just didn't like him very much.

Neither did most of the people who knew him.

"Well, it's your own fault for calling him back," she muttered. "Should have just let it go." But she couldn't, and that bothered her more than she liked.

While she waited for Cole to arrive, she did some housecleaning, her mind spinning back to childhood memories. Back to when her mother was alive. Back when they would come to this very house to visit her father's mother. Grandma Betsy was a wonderful woman who loved Jesus with every fiber of her being.

Those had been good days, even though Kenzie knew her parents were having marital difficulties. Never had there been arguing or blowups or anything obvious. Just the silences. Her parents had gotten to the point where they would go days without speaking. Her mother's smile had been fake for weeks before her death, and no amount of asking what was wrong had been able to pull the truth from the woman.

One of Kenzie's last moments with her had been finding her crying in the kitchen. Anger surged, but she bit it back. "Mom, something's wrong with you and Dad. Why won't you tell me?"

A sigh slipped from her and she smiled through her tears. "Sometimes you've just got to have a good cry."

"And you're crying because of Dad. What's he done?"

Her mom cupped her face and kissed her forehead. "Partly because of him, yes. I won't insult your intelligence by denying it. We're just having some tough times right now, Kenz, but I love him and he loves me and I know we'll work it out in the end. We just have to walk through the fire to get there."

"I'm never getting married."

"Aw, honey, don't say that. The good times far outweigh the bad. And besides, I wouldn't have you or your brothers if I hadn't married your dad, and I'd never change that."

Kenzie grunted. "I'm not sure pointing that out is a good marketing strategy for the benefits of marriage. Four kids? Three of them boys, Mom? Really? Then again, I get why you had to keep trying. You had to get to me."

"What do you mean?"

"So you could finally hit perfection," Kenzie deadpanned.

Her mom had laughed. Loud and long and then had hugged her tight. "I love your humor, sweet girl, and your ability to make the sun come out amidst the clouds. Don't ever lose that."

"Sorry, Mom," she whispered to the silence of the house, "I think I lost it and don't know how to get it back." She walked to the mantel and picked up her favorite photo. Just her and her mother. Grandma Betsy had taken it during a vacation week at the beach. Kenzie was twelve and just starting seventh grade, with no clue of the tragedy that was coming. "I miss you, Mom."

When the doorbell rang, Kenzie turned from the photo and pasted a smile on her lips.

COLE DIDN'T KNOW WHY he had a hard time pulling in a breath when Kenzie opened the door, but this reaction when he was around her was getting ridiculous. She wore a light blue oversize sweatshirt and faded jeans with fashionable holes in the knees. He could tell she had her vest on under the sweatshirt. With her dark hair pulled into a ponytail and a few wispy bangs playing tag with her eyebrows, she looked about eighteen. Her eyes were decades older, though.

"Hey," she said, "come on in for a sec. I just need to grab my piece."

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. A hint of lemon and pine tickled his nose. She'd been cleaning.

When she returned from the kitchen, her eyes met his. "Ready?"

"Ready."

It didn't take long to get to the farmers' market. Kenzie lived about three miles from the place, and he knew she was a frequent visitor, thanks to the baked goodies she often brought to headquarters.

"What good do you think this is going to do? I mean, anyone could have bought that. It could have been in a gift basket. It could have been—"

"I know, Kenzie. I honestly don't expect to figure out who bought it, but if he's been here once, maybe he's a regular."

"True. And if we know the booth he bought from, we can watch it."

"Exactly."

He backed into a spot near the entrance and displayed his law enforcement status on the dash. The open-air market was already bustling with visitors, and the breeze carried the stomach-rumbling scent of croissants and cinnamon rolls. He was going to have a cinnamon roll before they left.

But first, business. He examined the setup of the place. At the entrance, there were stalls, one after the other, with everything from children's toys to clothing for sale. This part of the market opened to the parking lot. From a previous visit, Cole could envision the rest of the layout. Long rows of indoor vendors with an exit on the far end and multiple exits along the walking paths.

"Produce is all the way to the back and to the left," Kenzie said, pointing down the main aisle. "In front of that temperature-controlled building."

"It's like a grocery store, right?" He'd been in it once? Maybe?

"Yeah, but with vendor booths inside, so you pay at each booth, just like out here."

"Right."

They found the produce aisle easily. The place had been built back at the start of the city's founding and had been the place to trade and sell goods since day one, according to history. Improvements had kept the market up to code, and business still boomed.

With a picture of the label on his phone, he walked to the first interior booth and showed the teen worker the screen. "Hi, could you tell me what fruit this was on?"

She frowned. "Dunno. Lemme ask my mom. Mom!"

Cole smothered a laugh under the guise of a cough while Kenzie pressed her fingers to her lips to cover her smile.

A woman at the back of the booth spun and shot a ferocious frown at her offspring, then hurried to stand in front of them. "Yes?"

"These people want to know what fruit a label came off of." She rolled her eyes. "Like I can tell them that."

"Go see if Mr. Boyle has anything you can help him with. Something that doesn't involve customer interaction." With another exaggerated roll of her eyes, the girl stomped off, and her mother turned a weary smile on them. "She's such a delight these days, as you can see. She doesn't want to be here, but she's grounded, so ... I apologize. Now, what label do you have?"

Cole showed her.

"I don't recognize that one. Miranda Tollison might know. She's been here longer than some of us."

"I know Miranda," Kenzie said. "Thank you."

Cole followed Kenzie to the booth at the end of the row, and Kenzie introduced them. Miranda looked at the picture. "I've seen it, but it's not one of mine. Why don't you try Jonathan?"

They said their goodbyes and found Jonathan. The redheaded man with a sunburned nose nodded. "Yeah, that's my label. According to the number, that's for the pears." Jonathan reached over and held one up with a matching label. Finally.

"Well, that explains why I didn't recognize it," Kenzie said. "I hate pears." Cole shot her a look of amusement, and she shrugged, then turned back to Jonathan. "Do you have a lot of law enforcement customers?" Kenzie asked.

The man shrugged. "Sure. All the time."

Cole planted his hands on his hips. "Anyone in particular who likes pears?"

Jonathan laughed. "You're kidding, right?"

He wished. "I know. It's a crazy question, but I have a reason for asking."

"Naw, man. I don't have a clue who bought the piece of fruit that was attached to that label."

"I know. We didn't really expect you would. We're just asking a few questions." Cole shot him a tight smile. "Thanks."

"Sure. That it?"

Kenzie hesitated. "Actually, no. One more thing. The next time a guy comes in dressed in SWAT gear or police gear and buys a pear, will you see if you can engage him in some conversation? Maybe introduce yourself and get a name?"

Jonathan's eyes narrowed. "What's this all about anyway?"

"Just running down a lead," Cole said. Which was probably going nowhere, but shots in the dark had panned out before. Might as well give this one a try.

Kenzie shifted and Cole noted her gaze had snagged on something in the far-right corner. "Kenz?"