She’d gone on to explain her son had been in his bedroom all day, terribly ill with chicken pox.
She was no fool. Neither of the officers so much as asked to speak with Tom, taking her word as gospel and probably wanting to avoid the boy’s alleged germs more than they wanted to question him.
The deception had been easy, and when the whisper of guilt flared inside her, she batted it away. Nothing she or Tom had seen would make a difference.
Except the man who ran away, her conscience whispered.
She frowned as a hunter green pickup pulled into the drive, easing down the private lane and coming to a stop next to her SUV. When the driver emerged from behind the tinted glass her breath caught. She lowered her cup to the windowsill, afraid she might spill its contents.
“Tommy,” she called out to her son, now happily glued to a television video game. “I need you to run back upstairs for a bit.”
“Aw, Mom.”
Normally, her son’s whine would have set her teeth on edge, but her only concern now was keeping him as far from Wade as possible.
She stepped away from the window just as Wade began his walk across her slate stepping stones, leisurely making his way past her carefully manicured flower beds.
Kerri hurried into the center hall, crossed to the television and pushed off the power button. Tom’s eyes grew huge, then morphed into narrowed slits.
She jerked her thumb toward the stairs. “Quickly,” she whispered, just as Wade’s knock sounded at the front door.
She waited until Tommy had cleared the top step before she put her hand on the doorknob, drawing in a deep, steadying breath.
“Who is it?”
“You know perfectly well who it is,” Wade answered. “I saw you looking out the window.”
Damn the man.
Kerri jerked the door open, three years worth of pent-up anger boiling inside her. “You’re not welcome here.”
Wade’s dark eyebrows lifted, but his stare never left her face. She fought the urge to shift her weight from one foot to the other, an effect he’d had on her since the day they’d first met.
The tanned skin around his eyes held more creases than she remembered, and his rich, brown hair showed the slightest glimmer of gray at his temples. The subtle signs of age had made him more handsome than ever.
She shook off the thought and reminded herself of his role in John’s death. The memory effectively smothered any lingering fondness she felt for the man.
“What?” she asked, hoping her sharp tone would leave no doubt he wasn’t getting across the threshold.
As if reading her mind, he lifted one workboot to the sill. Kerri dropped her focus to his foot, then narrowed the opening of the door.
When she returned her attention to his face, his expression had shifted from warm to intense.
“Did you hear about the fire?”
“Hard not to,” she answered. “I’ve already spoken to the police. I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
“I saw you.” The dark eyebrows lifted again, and the line of his jaw grew sharp.
Kerri blinked, but fought to keep any additional reaction out of her features. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Wade nodded. “You saw me and you ran, didn’t you?”
She made a snapping noise with her mouth and shook her head, unable to force a suitable response out of her brain.
“In the woods.” Wade leaned so close his warm breath brushed her face. “Behind the houses. I saw you run away.”
“Uncle Wade?”
Tom’s voice cut through their standoff, and Kerri stiffened. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath.
Footsteps pounded down the staircase, and Tom squeezed between her and the door frame, launching himself at Wade.
The man pulled her son into an embrace, all signs of confrontation disappearing from his face as he beamed at the child.
“Who’s this?” He ruffled her son’s hair. “And what did you do with that little squirt who used to beat me in basketball?”
Tom laughed, and Kerri caught herself smiling. Her son’s laughter had become a rare commodity since his father’s death. The sound never failed to bring a smile to her lips, even if the cause was Wade Sorenson.
“You might as well come in,” she said, pulling the door open wide.
Wade released Tom and followed the boy inside. “You look good, Red,” he whispered in Kerri’s ear as he brushed past her shoulder.
Kerri shot him a glare as she closed the door. If the man thought the use of her old nickname would warm her feelings toward him, he had another thing coming.
It would be a cold day in hell before she willingly welcomed Wade Sorenson back into either her heart or her home.
WADE HAD NEVER SEEN such fury in the blue depths of Kerri’s eyes. Not even in the days following John’s death. Back then, her eyes had been full of pain and grief.
He hadn’t seen her since they’d buried John—and their friendship—but it was apparent the years had replaced her grief with a hard-edged anger.
There’d been a time once—many years earlier—when Wade thought what he felt for Kerri went far deeper than friendship, but his best friend had beat him to the punch, asking out the fiery redhead before Wade could muster the courage to do the same.
He’d watched John and Kerri fall in love, marry, give birth to Tom. He’d watched them struggle through marital difficulties, financial stress and parenting. And he’d watched Kerri bury her husband, watched Tom say goodbye to his father.
Wade drew in a deep breath and held it, bolstering his resolve. He might not have been prepared for the magnitude of the anger in Kerri’s once warm blue eyes, but he could handle it.
He intended to get to the bottom of what had happened today, and if he had to use Kerri and Tom to gain that information, so be it.
Tom slid into a chair at the kitchen table and Wade mirrored his movement. Without asking, Kerri poured them each a glass of milk then placed a sleeve of cookies in the middle of the table.
The familiar action enveloped Wade in a wave of memories, and for the briefest of moments, the past three years slid away, carrying him to the happy time before the accident. Before John’s death.
The reason for his visit brought him crashing back to the present.
“So have you seen my new site?” he asked Tom.
Kerri shot him an angry glare as she dropped into the chair directly across from him.
