“I kept us both out of jail.” His gaze bore into her. She’d seen something in those eyes all those years ago. She hadn’t imagined it anymore than she did now. She swore she could feel the quickening thump of his heart under her hand.
“I didn’t really want anything from you.” Not then. And not now either. She wished she hadn’t called the judge. She especially wished he hadn’t sent Shep because the man had a way of weakening both her knees and her resolve.
“I know,” he said as he lifted her hand from his chest.
Did he? Had he known even back then how fragile she was? She’d felt so strong after the boot camp and she’d grown stronger with the years, with college, with her career.
Until she saw Lindy standing across the street. “I was just—”
“Acting out,” he said, and kissed her palm and gave it back to her. “I wish I’d known about what had happened to you, Charlie. Now I understand a whole lot more than I did then. The acting out, it was what we all did when we were afraid. Like now.”
His words brought tears to her eyes. Why did the man have to be so damned in tune to her feelings?
She looked down at her palm where he’d kissed it and turned away from him. “It’s late. You should get some sleep. I have to work tomorrow.” A thought struck her. She turned to face him again. “Where will you—”
“I’ll crash on your couch.” He cocked his head. “If that’s okay with you.”
Her mouth was dry and bitter from not just her story but the wine. She felt vulnerable and scared and she hated it.
She tried not to think about any of it, especially Shep, as she got him bedding before going into her bedroom and closing the door behind her. There wasn’t a lock. Not that she would need it. She knew Shep. He was too much of a gentleman. The only way he’d come to her was if he was invited.
Worse, he knew her. He now knew everything about her—even the horrible secret she’d kept all these years.
She stumbled to the bed and lay down without undressing. It wasn’t like she was going to be able to sleep.
* * *
SHEP LAY ON the couch, staring up at the ceiling as he went over everything Charlie had told him. His heart ached for her and what she’d been through. He wished there was more he could do. He hated how aware he was of the young woman only yards away in the next room. For a moment in the kitchen, he’d seen the old Charlie, the one he’d known at boot camp. The one he’d fallen helplessly in love with as a teenager.
Shoving that thought away, he tried to concentrate on her story. Pulling out his phone, he typed in Lindy Parker murder.
The murder had made the front page of the Bozeman Daily Chronicle. Charlie and her family had been living in the old Drummond house on the north edge of town not far from the tracks only a few months, according to the article.
It wasn’t the first tragedy at that house apparently. Jonathan Drummond had the Victorian house built in the late 1800s for his wife to be, Mary Margaret White. The two moved in after their marriage in 1901.
Tragedy struck four years later when their oldest daughter died after falling down the stairs. A few years after that they lost their two-year-old son to an accident in the yard involving a wild dog. Six months later, Mary Margaret was found hanging from the rafters in the basement.
According to the article, Jonathan lived the rest of his life in the house alone as a recluse. After his death, the house went to a nephew who sold it. Occupancy changed over the years, with no one staying long. It had become a rental back in the 1960s.
Shep stared at the headshot of the victim, the young blonde he’d seen in the photograph in Charlie’s album. He knew he was biased and passing judgment after hearing the whole story from Charlie, but she looked spoiled, entitled, a little too sure of herself and certainly not as pretty as Charlie.
He hated that Lindy had been unhappy and had taken it out on her. He felt angry and a little sick to his stomach. Charlie had been so alone in a situation where she was being bullied until one day she