Razed (Barnes Brothers #2)(83)

He had to flip through quite a few useless files before he found the one he needed. And it wasn’t a surprise that he encountered applications from people who no longer worked there. The first couple of years, turnover had been pretty high.

Keelie’s application was down near the bottom.

He plucked it up and started to read.

Nothing popped out, not at first. Her last address had been in Texas.

There were a few references, all from Texas.

It wasn’t until he flipped it over and skimmed the info at the bottom that something stood out.

The name she’d put down to call in case of an emergency.

Running his tongue across his teeth, Zach studied it thoughtfully.

“Paul Jenkins,” he murmured.

“What’s that?”

Zach held it out to his brother. “I don’t know. The name she used for an emergency contact. Has the same area code. I’m probably reaching here. It’s not like Lexington is a small city, right?”

Travis looked up at him.

“Absolutely you could be reaching.” But Travis continued to stare at him and the pressure of that gaze didn’t relent.

There was a knock at the door. He looked up. Anais gave him a half-hearted smile. “You look grouchy. Sorry, boss, but your next appointment is here.”


*

After Zach slid out of the office, Travis helped himself to a cup of the shittiest coffee he’d had in a long time. He’d had some really shitty coffee, too.

Then he settled back behind Zach’s desk.

The computer seemed to struggle its way back into life and Travis sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. If he had time, he’d see what he could do about that, but first . . .

He did a quick search on the name Zach had just given him.

Huh. Mr. Paul Jenkins was an attorney. Interesting area of practice.

He eyed the piece-of-shit computer and hunkered down, fingers flying over the keys as he started to dig deeper.

It wasn’t really a violation of privacy, not the way he saw it.

Since it looked like trouble was already nosing around, Travis figured the best thing to do was be ready for it.

Forewarned, forearmed, all that jazz.


*

A crying jag left a woman feeling exhausted and tired and ready to just curl into a ball. A week of sleep might undo some of the damage. The physical damage, never the emotional. Nothing could undo the guilt, or the anger.

A hand smoothed up her spine, settled over the curve of her neck and the fingers started to press against muscles gone tight.

Keelie closed her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Zane asked, his lips moving against her temple.

Such a question. One she had no idea of how to answer. Instead of trying, she shifted on his lap and pressed her face into his neck. The smell of him surrounded her. His arms were warm and strong, his body a firm, hard presence beneath her. Keelie didn’t feel like she was going to fly off into nothingness—she couldn’t. Because he was there, holding her.

Smoothing her hand up, she toyed with the collar of his shirt.

Sniffling, she tried to blank her mind, but too many memories continued to rage inside.

“I tried to tell.”

The words popped out of her before she’d realized she needed to say them.

Zane rubbed his cheek against her hair.

“I went to her mom, told her what I’d seen.” She blew out a shuddering sigh and fisted her hand in the material of his shirt. “This was more than a month later and Toria hadn’t been to school in over two weeks. I’d heard they were moving. I went over there, told her mom that I’d seen what happened, said I’d go to court. Her mother just shook her head and said it was too late. Toria couldn’t fight anymore.”

Zane was quiet, saying nothing.

“I didn’t understand, but then her mother took me to Toria’s room. She . . .” Keelie swallowed, tears burning her eyes as the memory backhanded her. “She was on the bed. Staring outside. It was like the world had ceased to exist. Her mother was homeschooling her for the moment. Toria did enough to skate by and nothing else. I said her name and she looked at me like I wasn’t even there. Her father had sold her out. The friends she’d had at school had gone and turned into either statues or they laughed when she went by. I told her mother I’d tell the sheriff, but it was too late.”

“You tried. You were a kid, too. Your mother was cutting in, trying to keep you from doing the right thing.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Keelie surged upright and paced away, staring out the windows. A headache pulsed at the base of her head. “She said she’d take care of it. I didn’t know what she meant, but I was afraid, and Price was there and I . . . I let myself believe she’d do the right thing.”

“She was your mother—that’s what she should have done.” Zane’s voice was a slap and she flinched at the sound of it.

Now, striding to stand before her, he watched her with burning eyes. “You’d had somebody drug you hours earlier.”

Her eyes came to his.

“Didn’t you?”

“I . . .” She stopped, blew out a breath. “I don’t know. Not for sure. But probably. She saved me. And then I wasn’t there to help to her.”

“You tried.” His voice was so full of compassion, it almost broke her. Even as it infuriated her.