squad his priority, allocating extra resources to the cause. But Parker had another reason to care. He took out his business card and tossed it down.
Brynn picked it up. Her face went pale again. “You’re Tommy’s brother?”
So Tommy had mentioned him.
“And you’re a detective.” She sounded numb.
“That’s right. And I want answers. Justice.” No matter how many years had passed.
“Justice?” She barked out a strangled laugh. “That would be a first, coming from a cop.”
Parker gritted his teeth, her accusation striking home. His father had been corrupt. He’d paraded as a model citizen—a decorated cop, a dedicated family man—until a police corruption sting had stripped away the illusion, exposing the truth behind the facade.
And then he’d taken the coward’s way out, leaving Parker to deal with the mess.
His suicide had ripped the family apart. Parker’s mother had turned into a recluse overnight. Tommy had rebelled, lashing out against authority and getting hooked on drugs. As a rookie cop, Parker had battled to save his job, struggling to live down his father’s reputation and prove that he wasn’t the same—a doubt that still lingered in the force, even after all this time.
“All cops aren’t bad,” he said, his voice flat.
“No?” She jerked her chin toward the photos on her walls. “Ask those kids about that. They can tell you about justice and the police.”
“They’d be wrong.”
“The hell they would.” Her voice turned hard. Her gold-flecked eyes darkened to steel. “They know a lot more about reality and justice than you do. They’ve been raped, robbed and abused—and the police don’t give a damn. The only thing they care about is power.”
He wanted to argue the point, to defend the life he led. But he didn’t have to justify his choices to a suspect. He hadn’t done anything wrong. And he wasn’t about to let her distract him from his brother’s murder—the reason he was here.
“You’re entitled to your opinion,” he said.
“That’s generous of you,” she snapped back. “But it’s not an opinion. It’s a fact.”
“Regardless, I still want answers about my brother, and you were the last person to see him alive.”
Her head came up. “What makes you think that?”
“Witnesses saw a girl matching your description running from the scene.”
Her jaw went slack. “You think I killed him?”
“Didn’t you?”
She stared at him, her eyes sparking with a kaleidoscope of emotions—shock, outrage and something else. Something that looked a lot like guilt. “Get out.”
“The hell I will.”
“I said to get out of my house.”
“Not without answers.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“I think you do.”
“You’re wrong.”
Not this time. This woman knew what had happened to Tommy. And after fifteen years trying to find her, he wasn’t going to back off now.
“Tommy was your friend,” he fired back. “He carried that photo around in his shoe. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Don’t you care what happened to him?”
“Care?” A flush climbed up her cheeks. Fury vibrated her voice. “You’re the one stirring up trouble. You’re going to get people hurt—innocent people who don’t deserve this grief. So don’t accuse me of not caring!”
“What people?”
Her lips pressed tight.
“What people?” he demanded again, stepping forward.
She bumped against the counter and stopped. “Leave me alone.”
“I can’t.”
“Everyone has a choice.”
And he’d made his. He’d vowed to bring his brother’s killer to justice, and he refused to stop until he did.
A shrill ring split the air. Their eyes waged a silent battle, tension crackling between them as the telephone rang again.
“I need to get that,” she said.
Parker braced his hands on his hips and scowled, refusing to let this drop. If Brynn hadn’t killed his brother, she knew who did. He’d bet his badge on that. He had to convince her to talk.
The telephone trilled again. When he still didn’t move aside, she arched a brow. “Do you mind? I really need to answer the phone.”
Cursing the interruption, he expelled his breath. “All right, but we aren’t done yet.” He inched aside, just far enough to let her pass.
Her eyes blazed into his for another heartbeat, her anger clear. Then she turned and stalked past the microwave to the phone. He lowered his gaze to her hands, tensing in case she tried to incapacitate him somehow. But in a move so quick he could hardly believe it, she lunged sideways, scooped up her coat and backpack then upended the table into his path.
He sprang into instant action, stumbling over the chair as he raced after her into the hall. But the split-second delay had given her a head start. She flung open the basement door and dove inside, slamming the dead bolt home just as he grasped the knob. Her steps thundered down the basement stairs.
Swearing, he rattled the knob. He rammed the door with his shoulder, but the thick wood didn’t budge. Unable to believe his stupidity, he ran through the mudroom and out the back, searching the shadows for a cellar door. But there was no other exit in sight.
The toolshed. He sprinted to the corner of the patio. The side gate hung ajar. He raced through it to the sidewalk, then stopped and turned in circles, scanning the empty street. The cold air brushed his face. A siren wailed in the quiet night.
But B. K. Elliot was gone.
Chapter 3
Brynn pressed deeper into her neighbor’s doorway, her entire body trembling as Parker McCall stalked into view. His sharp steps bludgeoned the brick sidewalk. Fury radiated off his powerful frame. He veered to a black pickup truck beneath a streetlight and leaped inside, then gunned the engine and roared away. Brynn held her breath, plastering herself flatter against the building as the truck’s high beams swept past. The engine’s growl faded into the night.
Thoroughly rattled, she sank to the cold cement door stoop and pulled her knees to her chest, her frenzied pulse refusing to slow. What a disaster. Her picture had appeared in the newspaper. Her identity
