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“I know he has a background in armed robbery and that he’s been in rehab twice. But the pastor from Jean’s church says he’s been clean for the last eighteen months. I also know it’s easy to be deceived, so I won’t believe it until I see the tox screen.”
The barb made a direct hit on its intended mark. Piper’s heart. “Will they let me into her house?”
Luke’s eyes softened, then steeled again. “I’ll see what I can do. Where are you staying in case I need to contact you?”
Oh, he was going to love this. “I’m staying with Harmony Fells. I can get you the address.”
A puff of air escaped his nose. He shook his head.
“We’ve changed. And I have nowhere else to go.” Piper had cut ties with everyone else she’d been involved with, and Mama Jean’s house was a crime scene.
“The address?”
Piper rattled it off.
“Nice neighborhood. How does she afford that?” Luke scribbled the address on a notepad. The accusing tone in his voice rang loud and clear.
Piper bristled. “She works for an insurance company, and she has her Realtor’s license. The house was a foreclosure. But I’m pretty sure that has nothing to do with your investigation, and from here on out, I’m only answering questions that pertain to my grandmother’s case.”
Piper caught the corner of Luke’s mouth twitch north, but then he grew serious. “Fair enough. I think your grandma was an innocent bystander. This Baxter guy may have invited trouble. But if not, would there be anything you can think of that might have led to her place being trashed?”
Piper had stewed over that same question during the drive. Was God punishing her for her past? Not that she didn’t deserve it, but Mama Jean was the sweetest woman on the planet, and she loved God, so why would He allow this to happen to her?
“I don’t know. She lives on a fixed income. Doesn’t even have a computer or a cell phone. I can’t imagine someone thinking she had anything of value. It must have something to do with Christopher Baxter.” Mama Jean had blinders when it came to wounded souls. When she was stabilized, they’d have a talk about that, but until then Piper wasn’t going to sit by and let some lowlife get away with hurting her grandmother. And while Christopher Baxter might have been a thug himself, no one deserved to be murdered. She had every intention of finding out who had done this and why.
“The detective in the theft unit told me the basement had been meticulously disarranged. Even a few holes in the walls. Whoever did this was hunting for something, Piper.” He eyed her until she fidgeted. “If they didn’t find what they were after, they could come back.”
And if it was connected to Piper’s previous mistakes, they would. Invisible icy claws scraped down her spine. Was Luke trying to terrify her? It was working.
“If it was something they wanted from Christopher Baxter, they got it. Otherwise, they’d need him alive.” Piper adjusted Mama Jean’s covers and ran her hands over her bony fingers jutting from the cast.
She needed to be alone. She’d barely had time to process being back in Memphis. The fact that Luke Ransom was a foot away was too much to bear. Instead of trusting her all those years ago, he’d believed the worst about her. She’d never got over that pain.
“You may be right. I just hope whatever is going on doesn’t implicate you.” Regret and a hint of accusation laced his voice.
“I would never do anything to hurt Mama Jean, and you know that if you know nothing else.” Piper had half a mind to throttle him right here in the room. To insinuate Piper had anything to do with this—would ever intentionally put Mama Jean at risk... She rubbed her temples, a migraine trying to break through.
“Getting one of your headaches?”
The familiarity between them pushed against her chest. Piper had a sick feeling this was the first of many headaches to come. What if this did have something to do with her former messed-up life?
* * *
Luke might as well have been hit with an atomic bomb. The minute Piper had stepped into the room, he’d imploded. Lost his breath. And hated himself for it. She might have lied about loving him once, but Mama Jean was her world. The one person she refused to disappoint, though if Mama Jean ever found out about Piper’s infractions, it’d send her to her grave. But maybe not. Mama Jean was a strong woman.
Strong like the one standing before him now. Hazel eyes that bordered brown. She didn’t hold the hard edge anymore, but Piper Kennedy radiated tough. And no doubt she was even fiercer than when he’d loved her a decade ago, considering the martial-arts path she’d traveled after leaving Memphis. Despising himself every time, he’d checked up on her throughout the span of ten years.
Piper dropped her hand from her temple and clutched her purse to her side. “Sometimes. When I’m stressed.”
“The theft unit will probably want to ask you some questions, as well.”
“Why? Because you told them about my past?” Her voice invited a challenge.
Luke wouldn’t share her past with a soul. Never had. For her sake and his. He’d put his career in jeopardy over Piper once, and now he was up for a promotion to sergeant. No way would he risk that. “No. Because you’re family. But since you’re bringing it up, you should know if this has anything to do with that, it’ll come out. They’ll look hard at you.”
Her face blanched, and she white-knuckled her purse. “I’m clean.”
“I’m just saying.” She didn’t have an ally in Luke anymore. Not since that night ten years ago when she gave him false information about a burglary, sending him on a wild-goose chase. While they were waiting to bust Chaz—at the wrong location—the real burglary went down and south quick. A woman almost died. And Piper had been right there in the thick of it. Betraying him for a criminal like Michaels.
So why did he want to take her at her word now? Because he wanted to believe the best about her. Always had. He prayed she wasn’t entangled in this.
“I have my own business. My own home. You can dig all you want—you won’t find anything.”
That was what he was banking on. Luke was aware Piper owned a karate dojo in Jackson. That she’d competed in international championships. And won. She’d gone from scrappy to stealth. Beneath the still-raw pangs of betrayal, he hated to admit he was proud of her in that area. Unfortunately, just because her nose seemed clean didn’t mean it was. He refused to let tender feelings for Piper—though unwanted—cloud his judgment on this case and ruin his shot to move up.
“They, Piper, not me. But if his murder leads me back to you, I can’t let it go. Not this time.” He brushed past her and out the door. If Piper had connections to this burglary, and ultimately Christopher Baxter’s death, he wouldn’t be played. Luke had wised up since his rookie days undercover with the theft unit. A pretty face wasn’t always an innocent face.
Piper had proved that.
The moment he’d laid eyes on her, when she was eighteen and he was only twenty-one, a fierce need to protect her gripped him. But he’d always been a protector—a fixer, like Granddad—whether it was a stray cat, a broken bird or a hungry dog. Piper had been broken, wounded—a stray—when they met inside that pool hall. Turned out the one thing Luke should have protected, he’d left vulnerable.
His heart.
Eric Hale, Luke’s partner, stood with a cup of coffee in his hand. “You were in there awhile. Did she wake up?”
Eric had given Luke a few minutes to see Mama Jean. The woman had always cared about him. He’d checked in on her over the years, and she’d promised never to tell Piper. Looked as if she’d kept up her end of the bargain.
“No. Her granddaughter showed up. I asked her a few questions.” Eric had no idea about his connection to Piper, and until he could figure out what to say about her, he’d like to leave it that way.
“She offer anything useful?” Eric finished his coffee, trashed it, then fell into step with Luke as he zipped up his black leather jacket.
“Useful? No.”
“You believe her?”
That was the question. Could he trust her again? Time would tell. “Let’s throw the flashlight on Baxter’s history and see if it lands on her. I’m not ruling her out.”
Eric chuckled. “You really are a hardnose.”
He had Piper to thank for that.
“Must want that sergeant’s promotion bad, huh?”
Luke had worked tirelessly to be where he was. Paid penance every day for his prior mistakes. He wanted this promotion. Needed it. Piper wasn’t going to get in the way this time, but his gut screamed everything about this case would track back to her. And it terrified him because the instinct to defend and shelter her had resurfaced the second she’d marched into Mama Jean’s room. It’d been difficult to keep a tough exterior, but then, he had plenty of old hurts to fuel him.
Luke would do his duty to serve and protect and nothing more. He wouldn’t allow Piper to rob him of his heart again. No getting tangled up with emotions. But as he resolved the issue, a sliver of doubt wiggled like a splinter in his chest.
* * *
“Did I see who I thought I saw?” Harmony asked as she and Piper breezed through the glass entrance doors. The wind picked up Harmony’s shiny blond hair, blowing it in her face.
“I think I should stay the night in the waiting room,” Piper said, ignoring the question.
“Mama Jean is gonna be out cold all night. You need some rest. Come back early. Fresh.”
Harm was right. But there was no way Piper was going to sleep well. Her nerves tingled on edge already, but something else wafted in on the night’s current. She paused and scanned the parking lot. Only a few lit posts dotted the area. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention.
“What’s the matter with you, Pipe?” Harmony paused and followed Piper’s gaze. “You looking for Luke?”
Piper put her arm out to block Harmony. “Something’s off.”
“What do you mean? What did he say to you? Was something stolen?” She removed Piper’s arm from across her middle.
“He’s working homicide now. Investigating Christopher Baxter’s murder.”
Harmony rifled through her purse and plucked her keys. “He know anything?”
“I don’t know.” Piper swallowed; a knot swelled in her abdomen. “I guess I’m just freaking out.”
“So what did he say?”
Slowly, Piper started toward her car, Harmony at her side. “Not much, and I doubt he’d offer any additional information. He thinks I’m involved. Of course.”
“That’s ridiculous and he knows it.” She pointed across the lot. “I’m over there. See you at the house.”
“Okay. Be careful.” Piper watched as Harmony hurried to her car, unlocked the doors and climbed in. When she safely drove away, Piper strode toward her own car. Could Chaz have reemerged and hurt Mama Jean? He was that evil.
Piper pressed the fob on her key ring to unlock the doors to her car. She rounded the hood to the driver’s door.
A shadow leaped from the side of the car, throwing Piper off guard, her bag falling to the ground.
Something heavy struck her thigh, sending a blinding pain up her side, clear to her teeth. She stumbled backward, tripping over the concrete parking bumper, and landed on her backside.
The attacker, dressed in a dark hoodie, mask and gloves, lunged forward. She jumped to her feet, landing a front kick to his chest.
Grunting, he faltered and dropped his weapon.
The tire iron clattered against the asphalt.
Piper gasped. Same weapon used to assault Ellen Strosbergen—the woman nearly killed in that last burglary Piper had been a part of a decade ago.
Her assailant hunkered down and came at her full force, but she dodged and kicked him into the side of the car. He bounced off the back door with a thud, leaving a dent, then grabbed the tire iron and hightailed it through a line of parked cars.
Where was the parking security?
Piper gave chase, weaving through the vehicles. A dark van squealed into the lot, and the shadowy figure hurtled in before speeding away. She rubbed her thigh and fisted her hands to control the shaking. Hobbling back to her car, she scrambled in and locked the doors, heart beating out of her chest.
What to do? Find Luke? She peeled out of the lot. Would he even believe her? No. He wouldn’t. She was on her own.
* * *
Luke ducked under the crime-scene tape and slipped a pair of blue bootees over his shoes while studying the mechanic shop. Eric did the same. So much for getting a solid night’s sleep. Crime never rested, and he wouldn’t have been able to anyway. Piper was back and mixed up in this somehow. A train sounded in the distance. Horns blared and tires squealed over Poplar Avenue, piercing through the chilled night.
A uniform filled him and Eric in on the scene at hand. “Girlfriend said he didn’t come to bed. Found the vic in the bay. His face is pretty mangled.”
Luke followed the officer into the bay, the smell of oil and exhaust wrinkling his nose. A Caucasian male, early thirties, lay in a pool of blood, a stained tire iron beside him. That would definitely rough up a face. Brought back memories of poor Ellen Strosbergen.
It might have been used to bloody the vic’s face. But from what Luke could tell, it wasn’t the cause of death. The man’s head was lying at an odd angle.
“Neck broke?” Eric asked.
“Pretty sure. I’m interested to know which came first, the bludgeoning to the face and head or the snapped neck. Medical examiner on his way?” Luke browsed the area. Two cars raised on jacks, a few tires lying around. Tools in disarray, but not due to someone tossing the place—just seemed business as usual. A few greasy rags dotted the grimy concrete floor.
“Yeah. Crime-scene unit, too,” the officer said.
“Name?”
“Tyson Baroni. Thirty-four. Owns the shop. We called his next of kin. Has a brother that lives in Arlington.”
Tyson Baroni. He was hardly recognizable. Luke’s stomach soured, and he chomped on the inside of his lip. Squatting, he carefully retrieved Baroni’s wallet. A card fell out.
He read the name scrawled across the middle.
God, why now? I’m finally getting beyond it after all this time.
“Whose card is that, Ransom?” Eric asked.
“Piper Kennedy’s. Business card for her dojo in Jackson.”
“The granddaughter from the hospital?” Eric’s eyes held questions.
“Yep.” Piper claimed she wasn’t involved, that she was clean. “I want to talk to the coroner and the girlfriend. Rule her out.” He reached into his jacket pocket and popped two antacids. With skilled martial-arts training, Piper was more than capable of snapping a neck. Was the girlfriend? Dread churned like a frosty tornado.
“What do you think she had in common with him?” Eric stared at the body, squinting.
Everything. “Ten years ago, Baroni ran with Chaz Michaels. A low-life dirtbag who got his jollies burglarizing the elderly who lived in wealthy neighborhoods. He was the wheels.”
“You think he had something to do with the robbery-homicide earlier? How does that link with the granddaughter?”
Luke stretched his neck from one side to the other. “Piper Kennedy was Chaz Michaels’s girlfriend for a while.” And much more. “She and Baroni were friends.”
Eric stroked his thumb across his lower lip. “So, you like Baroni for the robbery and think the Kennedy chick retaliated for knocking her grandmother around?”
Possibly. Whoever was in Mama Jean’s basement had a mission. The question was: Did they accomplish it? Did they find what they were after? And if not, what next?
“Let’s interview the girlfriend, then pay Piper a visit when sun’s up and ask.” Luke had hoped he wouldn’t have to see Piper again—at least not under these circumstances. Where she was concerned, he had a hard time discerning truth.
God, give me the strength to see clearly.
