Body Armor Page 2

  “Carpenter? Is that you?”

  “That’s the rumor,” Brody said then shook the deputy’s hand. “Good to see you, Brett.”

  Anna wasn’t surprised that they knew each other. Before dropping off the face of the earth, Brody Carpenter had been one of Cedarwood, Iowa’s finest sheriff’s deputies. A man destined for great things.

  Until it all went seriously wrong.

  “Man, we all figured you were dead,” the deputy said. “Where the heck you been for the past four years?”

  “It would probably take that long to explain,” Brody told him.

  “Can’t say I blame you for disappearing like you did. Brass did everything they could to make an example of you. Scared the heck out of all of us.”

  Anna had no doubt that Brody still had a lot friends in the department, many of whom knew—just as she had—that he’d gotten a raw deal. He’d been accused of destroying evidence against a local drug kingpin and taking a payoff for the effort.

  The county undersheriff had forced him to resign long before the case against him had been fully evaluated, and despite his eventual acquittal, Anna knew that Brody had considered it a matter that should never have come to trial. There were people on the force who were working against him, he’d told her, trying to destroy the dream he’d carried with him since he was a boy.

  And they had succeeded. Their cynicism and petty politics ultimately won, even if the prosecutor hadn’t. Rather than reinstate Brody to a job that he more than deserved—a job he had earned and excelled at—his bosses had turned their backs on him. Proclaimed him guilty despite what the jury had decided.

  He was a tarnished warrior, and Anna knew better than anyone that the entire ordeal had deeply wounded him. She’d felt his pain more than even he could know.

  But that wasn’t an excuse to run away. To abandon your friends and the woman you love. And as relieved as she was to see him, to know that he was safe, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to forgive him.

  Where had he been for the past four years?

  And why hadn’t she been with him?

  As Brody and the deputy dredged up old memories, he glanced at her and she once again felt her heart stutter, a feeling she’d never been able to control. His look was so full of regret that it took every thing she had to keep from crying.

  She wanted to punch him, kiss him, scream at him, make love to him, tell him to go back to wherever he came from and stay there—all at the same time.

  She didn’t need this now. Couldn’t handle it. She was normally a strong woman, but at that moment the world seemed to be caving in on her—Owen, the attack, now Brody—and she began to wonder about her capacity to stay upright. She felt dizzy and her vision seemed to narrow.

  “I have to sit down,” she said suddenly, and before the words were fully out of her mouth, Brody took her by the arm, helping her to the asphalt as the others crowded around her to see if she was okay.

  “I’m fine,” she told them. “I’ll be all right. I just feel a little faint.”

  As if this was the kick in the butt they needed, the deputies now got down to business, Brett pulling a notepad out of his back pocket and asking Brody to give him a run-through of the incident.

  The other deputy took the two guards aside to question them, as well.

  Anna listened as Brody explained that he’d seen her get off the elevator and head for her car, when a guy in a Santa suit popped up out of nowhere and grabbed her. Then instinct kicked in and Brody did what had to be done.

  “I just wish they hadn’t gotten away,” he said.

  “Did you get a tag number?”

  Brody shook his head. “I’m a little out of practice. And everything happened so fast.”

  “I’m curious,” the deputy said. “Why were you even down here? Was Anna expecting you?”

  Brody glanced at her again. He seemed a bit thrown by the question, but he recovered quickly.

  “I was waiting for her. Hoping to get the chance to talk to her. About Owen.”

  “Owen?”

  “My brother,” Anna explained. “He died a few days ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. My condolences.” He looked from one to the other. “So this guy in the Santa Claus suit. Do either of you have any idea who he is?”

  They both shook their heads. “Not a clue,” Anna said. “But he seemed to want something from me. Kept asking me about a button.”

  “Button? What kind of button?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t know what he was talking about.”

  “What about the driver? Either of you get a look at him?”

  Again they shook their heads.

  “Well, we’ll take a gander at the surveillance footage. Hopefully we’ll find something useful, but with this lousy lighting down here, I’m not counting on it.” He turned to Anna. “Can you think of anyone who would want to harm you?”

  Anna didn’t have to think. The answer was a resounding no. Her life was wrapped up in the shop and Adam, and her potential to make enemies was, at best, slim. She had absolutely no idea why Santa had grabbed her.

  She remembered the creepy leer he’d given her as he rang that bell outside her shop, but she never thought it would come to this.

  She suddenly wondered if he’d been stalking her. And that put a whole new spin on things.

  She’d been scared before, but now she was petrified.

  What if he came back?

  She told them about the earlier encounter, and the deputy assured her that they’d be speaking to mall management to find out if anyone could identify the guy.

  “I’d like to be in on that,” Brody said. “Get a look at the surveillance footage myself.”

  The deputy hesitated. “I’m sure we’ll have video for you, but you’re a witness, Brody—you know we can’t let you get involved in the investigation. Besides, it isn’t really up to me. I’m just the responding deputy.”

  “But you’ll keep us apprised?”

  Us? Anna thought. Was there suddenly an us now?

  The presumption annoyed her. Did Brody think that he could show up out of the blue and immediately resume where they’d left off? There was no us as far as she was concerned. Despite her mixed emotions, she at least knew that much. And at that moment she realized just how angry with him she really was. Even if he had saved her life.

  Her light-headedness abruptly gone, she pushed herself off the asphalt and stood. As Brody moved to help her, she shifted away from him.

  “I’m fine,” she said curtly, and she could see by his reaction that he was both startled and hurt.

  But she didn’t care. His hurt couldn’t possibly compare to what she’d gone through after he left.

  The deputy, sensing the tension between them, said, “I think that’s enough questions from me, but we got a call on the way in that a detective is already headed to the scene. I’m sure he’ll have a few of his own.”

  As if on cue, a sleek white sedan turned a corner and rolled down the aisle toward them.

  “Speak of the devil.”

  As the sedan drew closer, Anna saw the driver and thought for a moment that her head might just explode.

  Could this night get any more complicated?

  Whatever gods were conspiring against her, they must have been mightily amused. She couldn’t quite believe who had been dispatched to the scene, and she was convinced that it was no accident.

  Despite its size, Cedarwood, Iowa, was starting to feel like a very small town.

  The sedan came to a stop, then the engine shut down and two plainclothes sheriff’s detectives climbed out, the driver buttoning his suit coat as he sauntered toward them, a look of concern on his face.

  “You all right, babe?”

  Hail, hail, the gang’s all here, Anna thought.

  It was her ex-husband, Frank.

  Chapter Three

  When the two detectives stepped out of the cruiser, Brody felt his whole body go stiff. The last thin
g he needed right now was an encounter with Frank Matson.

  While he’d known that coming back to Cedarwood would dredge up a lot of old emotions and hostilities, he hadn’t expected it all to happen in one night. He marveled at how cruel fate could sometimes be, and he knew that Anna was probably feeling it, too.

  Matson’s concentration centered on her, genuine concern in his eyes. “You all right, babe?”

  It took him a moment to finally look at Brody, and when he did, the world seemed to stop for a moment as the reality of what he’d just walked into began to sink in.

  “Carpenter?”

  “The one and only,” Brody said. “How you been, Frank?”

  Matson’s concern abruptly vanished, replaced by a hardness that betrayed his utter contempt for Brody. They had been rivals since high school—rivals for Anna’s heart, to be precise—and Brody had a hard time reconciling the fact that Anna had not only been married to the man but given birth to his child.

  But then a lot had happened in his absence.

  And whose fault was that?

  Matson frowned at him. “What are you doing here, Carpenter? Are you part of this?”

  “Meaning what?”

  Matson moved in close. “Meaning if you’ve done anything to hurt Anna…”

  Brody didn’t back away. “You see any cuffs on me?”

  “Oh, for God’s sakes,” Anna said. “Both of you, stop it. You don’t see each other in years and you just pick up where you left off?”

  Matson backed down first. “Sorry, babe, you’re right.”

  “Quit calling me that.”

  He threw his hands up. “All right, all right. You’re upset, I understand. But I hear over the radio that someone at the mall has been attacked and the name Sanford comes up, you might understand why I’m a little upset, too. Did they hurt you?”

  “No. Thanks to Brody.”

  Matson shifted his gaze again. “Your knight in shining armor. I guess things never really change.”

  Brody felt heat rising in his chest. “Look, Frank, I’ve got no beef with you. Do we need to make an un pleasant situation even worse? If you care about Anna—”

  “If I care about her?” His eyebrows went up. “I’m the one who picked up the pieces when you left her behind, hotshot. And I don’t know if you remember, but I supported you. Told the undersheriff that Internal Affairs had the wrong guy.” He shook his head in disgust. “That support stopped the minute you ran out on Anna.”

  Brody said nothing. There wasn’t much he could say. Matson was right. He could try to explain that he’d been in a strange place at the time, that he hadn’t been thinking straight and just needed to get away from Cedarwood and all the whispers. People thinking he was dirty and had just gotten lucky.

  But Matson had never been the kind of guy who would understand such things. He had one switch: on and off. And if you didn’t conform to his narrow view of the world, you were the object of his derision.

  And maybe Brody deserved that.

  “Look,” he said. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

  “Of course you don’t. Things get too hot for Brody Carpenter, he’ll hop on his little motor scooter and run for the—”

  “Stop!” Anna said.

  She turned away, moving across the aisle toward her car, and Matson immediately followed her, stopping her before she reached it. Brody watched as he took her aside, trying to console her, calm her down. He could plainly see that Matson still cared for her.

  Brody didn’t know what had gone wrong between them, but it was clear that Frank wasn’t over it yet. Not by a long shot.

  Who could blame him? Anna wasn’t the type of woman you get over.

  Brody never had.

  But he was the outsider here. The intruder. And despite their differences, he could see that she was in good hands with Matson. Maybe he should just back off and let the department do what it did best.

  For now, at least.

  Moving to his Harley, he lifted it off the asphalt and checked it for damage—some scrapes and dings. He’d pulled it out of storage three days ago and was surprised to discover how much he’d missed riding it.

  He approached his old buddy Brett, who was huddled in conversation with Frank’s partner, Joe Wilson. Wilson’s contempt for him seemed even deeper than Frank’s.

  “Why are you here, Carpenter?”

  “Just doing a friend a favor. You think I can cut out now? I already gave Brett my statement.”

  Wilson narrowed his eyes at him. “Guards tell us you used a piece tonight. You still got a carry permit?”

  Brody nodded. “I’m up-to-date. Not sure why I kept renewing it, but I did.”

  “Yeah, well you better believe we’ll be checking into that. You staying some place we can reach you?”

  “The Motor Court Inn. On Sycamore.”

  “Get out of here,” Wilson said. “Can’t stand the sight of you anyway.”

  Brody let the comment pass. He nodded to Brett then climbed on his bike and started it up. The thunderous roar filled the parking lot, getting Anna and Matson’s attention. Anna looked at him expectantly.

  Their gazes connected, but Brody couldn’t read her as he used to.

  She was still as beautiful as ever, and he’d been a fool to leave her behind. A selfish, unthinking fool. Seeing her like this only drove that point home. There were no words, no deeds, that could make up for what he’d done to her. No path to redemption.

  He deserved her scorn. Matson’s, too.

  Grabbing the throttle, he gave them a nod then roared out of the parking lot. That look in Anna’s eyes just about broke his aching heart.

  FRANK INSISTED ON taking her home.

  Anna was too keyed up to resist, so she gave him the keys to her car and let him drive as Joe Wilson followed in the cruiser.

  They were silent for most of the ride, Anna running the night’s events through her head over and over again, still vacillating between elation and anger over Brody’s sudden reappearance.

  As she had watched him ride away tonight, she had wondered if another handful of years would pass before she’d see him again.

  She remembered how Brody had hesitated when the deputy asked why he was in the parking lot. He’d mentioned Owen, but Anna got the feeling that there was more to it than that. As if there was a specific purpose for his presence there.

  But what, exactly?

  Owen’s funeral had come and gone, and there was nothing anyone could do to bring him back. So why was Brody here?

  To torture her?

  If so, he was succeeding admirably, and as grateful as she was that he’d saved her life, she’d be in a much better place emotionally if her rescuer had turned out to be a kindhearted stranger.

  Frank finally broke the silence. “You okay?”

  Anna closed her eyes, almost smiled. An involuntary reaction to an impossible situation. There was no humor behind it at all. “I swear if somebody asks me that one more time tonight, I may scream.”

  “I’m concerned about you—is that so bad?”

  “If you were concerned about me, you’d do what I asked you to do.”

  He looked at her. “You mean Owen?”

  She nodded.

  “Come on, babe, we’ve been over this how many times? I know it’s hard, but sooner or later you’re going to have to accept the simple fact that your brother killed himself. And the sooner you do, the faster you’ll heal.”

  “I can see you’re really broken up about it.”

  Frank frowned. “Don’t do that. You know I liked Owen. The point is, if I thought there was even a shred of evidence that he was the victim of foul play…”

  “You’d what?” Anna asked. “Make a notation in a report and file it away somewhere?”

  “That isn’t fair.”

  “I’m tired of being fair. And I’m tired of people telling me I’m crazy. Owen would never hurt himself. He wouldn’t do that to me, or Mom, or to Adam.”

&
nbsp; Frank sighed. “I’m not trying to be an insensitive jerk here, Anna, but do you know how many times I’ve heard people say that? I must do death notifications for a dozen suicides every year, and I can’t tell you how many of them end with some family member saying exactly what you just said.”

  “Fine. But were any of those family members attacked by a guy in a parking lot?”

  Frank frowned again. “What’s that got to do with it?”

  “The guy wanted something from me, Frank.”

  “Yeah. The same thing every guy since junior high has wanted.”

  “No. I told you what he said about the button.”

  “Right. Complete and utter nonsense.”

  “Is it?”

  Frank took his gaze from the road and stared at her. “Isn’t it? You think you know what he was talking about?”

  Anna shook her head. “I don’t have a clue. But that wasn’t all of it. He also said, ‘I know he gave it to you.’”

  “Meaning what?”

  Anna was silent for a moment. This was something that had been quietly working at the periphery of her mind ever since Santa had said it.

  “What if this button is something that he thinks Owen gave me? Something that Owen himself was killed for?”

  Frank was looking at the road again, but she could see by the subtle hardening of his jaw that he wasn’t buying this at all.

  Then he said, “Anna, I think you need to consider talking to the sheriff’s psychologist again.”

  “Don’t shut me out, Frank. That’s the last thing I need right now.”

  “I’m not shutting you out. I’m trying to help you.”

  “By telling me I’m certifiable?”

  Frank sighed and nudged the wheel, pulling up to the curb in front of Anna’s house.

  Then he turned to her. “That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. Let’s pretend for a moment that you’re right about this button thing. Did Owen ever mention it to you?”

  Anna thought about it, shook her head.

  “Did he ever give you something to keep? To hide for him?”

  “No,” Anna said. “Nothing.”

  “You’re sure about that?”