style="font-size:15px;"> “This is probably not how you thought you would spend your morning.”
He sent her a grin that caused her stomach to flip-flop. “After your leg is taken care of, we’ll pick up where we left off.”
“And that is?”
“With me ringing your doorbell and you answering. Oh, that reminds me—” he delved into the front pocket of his jeans and took out the key to her front door “—this is yours.”
He slipped her house key into her palm, the action almost seeming intimate to Becca. Curling her fingers around the piece of metal, warmed by his touch, she shook that feeling away. When in the world would she have time to date, let alone get serious with someone? Her work took up so much of her day and what was left over was devoted to her classes and finally fixing up the home that should have been renovated years ago.
After having limped around her house for the past hour showing Quinn what needed to be done, in the living room Becca swept her arm wide and asked, “So, what do you think?”
He looked up from the pad he had been scribbling notes on and said, “Let me work up an estimate and get back to you.”
“I know I can’t afford all that needs to be done right away. I was thinking about having the work done in stages with the kitchen—” she glanced skyward “—and now the ceiling in the third bedroom and flooring in the attic done first.”
“Okay, I’ll start with that. I should have something by tomorrow afternoon. I can come by after church with the estimate. Will you be here around one?”
“That’s my day to sleep in and be lazy, so I’ll be here.” Of course, her idea of sleeping in and being lazy was getting up at eight and actually getting to read the Sunday paper, then hitting the books for class, if she wasn’t catching up on a few things that needed to be done around the house.
Contemplating her for a moment, Quinn cocked his head. “Why the kitchen?”
With her leg still throbbing, she decided to sit on the couch and indicated he take a seat, too. “Because I love to cook and hope to do more of it in the future.”
“I do quite a bit of cooking when I have the time.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, learned it from my mother.”
She snapped her fingers. “That’s right. I’ve had some of your mother’s apple pie at the Stagecoach Cafe. Brendan brought one down to the station a while back. It was delicious.” Becca smoothed her hand across another pair of capris, thankful that she was finally able to take off the ruined ones, ripped beyond repair, which she’d promptly thrown away. “Any chance I could get her apple pie recipe?”
His chuckle spiced the air. “It’s a deep, dark family secret. The only way is to become a member of the family.”
The very thought sent her mind whirling with all kinds of possibilities, none unappealing. She tapped her finger against her chin and said, “Hmm. With Brendan engaged…”
His gaze caught hers and for a few seconds sparks flew across the short space that separated them. Then the moment evaporated when Quinn sat up and looked away, clearing his throat. “I’d better be going.”
Reluctantly Becca pushed to her feet, part of her wanting to explore what had just transpired between them. But the other part wanted to run as fast as possible away from him. He could break her heart. She knew he had been engaged several years back and his fiancée, Maggie Nelson, a fellow police officer, had been killed while on duty. From the rumors flying around at the time, Quinn had not taken it well. Was he still mourning Maggie’s death?
“I look forward to hearing from you about the estimate.” She started for the entry hall. “And your cousin was great today. Are you sure he won’t take some money for stitching me up?”
“Adam? No way! We Montgomerys help each other out.”
“But I’m not a Montgomery.”
“But I am and I asked him to help.”
“So he’s honor bound?”
“Yep. It’s nice to have a doctor in the family.”
The grin that spread across Quinn’s face sent her heart beating a shade faster. When he opened the front door, his massive build dominated her entrance and for the strangest reason it seemed so right. “Thanks for all your help today.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll call you tomorrow before coming over.”
As she closed the door, she felt another strange sensation as though she were back in high school waiting for a call from a boy that never came. Instead, her life had been thrown into turmoil with her father being held hostage at the bank he worked at. Twenty-four hours later he had been killed by the gunman and she had become the strong one in her family. Her mother had fallen apart, unable to deal with two young children, ages eight and eleven. A year later her mother had gotten cancer, which had taken her life after a two-year battle with the disease.
The phone blaring startled Becca from her memories. She pushed away from the door and limped toward the kitchen, where she picked up the receiver on the fourth ring. “Hello.”
“Becca, I’m turning down your street. I’ve got a lead on the O’Brien case.”
Sam’s statement completely anchored her in the present. “I’ll be out front.”
Quickly she located her purse and gun, then hurried as fast as she could out onto her porch and down the steps. Sam came to a stop in front of her house. She tried not to favor her injured leg, but she wasn’t totally successful.
“What happened?” Sam asked as he pulled away from the curb.
“You know the statistics about most injuries happening in the home? I’m living proof they’re right. I fell through the floor in my attic.”
Surprise widened Sam’s eyes. “All the way?”
“No, just one leg, but I have a long gash in my thigh to remind me not to hurry when I’m doing something.” She shifted to make herself comfortable. “So what’s your lead?”
“Eddie Stinson was caught robbing a convenience store this week, and guess what? He used the same gun that killed Neil O’Brien. The ballistics report I just read confirmed it.”
“So he’s the killer?”
“No, he’s got an airtight alibi. He was in jail at the time. But he did tell us where he got the gun. It seems Ritchie Stark threw it away, and Eddie decided to retrieve it from the dumpster. No use letting a perfectly good gun go to waste, which was a big break for us.”
“Our Mr. Stark is stepping up in the world. He’s done some shady things in his illustrous past, but murder hasn’t been one.”
At a stoplight Sam peered at her. “That we know of. We have several unsolved cases at the moment, the Sainsbury and O’Brien murders to name a couple.”
“And your dad’s
