Page 30 of Justice Delayed

The man nodded.

“You’ll find a bag with everything you need under the passenger’s seat in the Mercedes convertible parked near the ice cream stand.” She gave the man a hard stare. “I expect daily reports.”

The man touched the brim of his hat with slim fingers, then slouched away down the dock.

Ruby returned her gaze to the water as the sun burst over the horizon, shedding red, orange, and yellow rays across the lake’s surface. Watching the sunrise used to thrill her as a new day unfolded, but that was before the nightmare of Jesse’s disappearance.

ChapterThirteen

Brogan thanked the waitress for his coffee and settled back into a booth at the 29 Diner. Melender texted that she was on her way, so he organized his thoughts on the story at hand. Usually, he had no trouble focusing on an article, but a certain blue-eyed woman who was running late this morning had become a distraction. Sure, he hadn’t dated much in his exile, but only because he hated seeing pity or disgust in a woman’s eyes when she found out he wasn’t a hot-shot journalist, or worse, had read about his inglorious fall from grace. He resisted the urge to smile as he recalled getting up well before his alarm clock to work out, then shower, shave, and dress in a pair of khaki pants and a new button-down shirt.

“Sorry I’m a little late.” Melender slid into the booth opposite him. “I decided to stop by my house to clean up a little bit after work.”

A subtle floral scent tickled his nose, and he breathed in deeply. Melender’s long hair, tightly braided and wound in a single bun at the crown of her head, appeared damp. So he wasn’t the only one wanting to make a good impression.

She smiled as the waitress stopped at the booth holding a mug and a coffee pot. “Would you like coffee too?”

“Yes, please.”

As the waitress refilled Brogan’s cup, Melender picked up the menu.

“You folks ready to order?” The waitress poured coffee into Melender’s mug.

“I always order the same thing,” Melender said. “Are you ready, Brogan?”

He nodded.

Melender turned to the waitress. “Biscuits and gravy with two scrambled eggs.”

Brogan ordered the Farmer’s Wife platter with two eggs over easy, two strips of bacon, and two pancakes. When the waitress left, he smiled at Melender. “Do they make good biscuits and gravy here?”

“Not as good as Sudie did, but this is one of the few places that comes close.”

Her wistful tone tugged at his heart, but he tamped that down. He needed to approach this—her—with as much objectivity as he could. Otherwise, his story would be compromised. But instead of asking her a question related to the kidnapping, he wanted to know about her upbringing. “Sounds like you were very close with your grandmother.”

“Sudie was my great-grandmother.” A smile graced her face. “Growing up, I saw Sudie every day. I don’t remember my mother much at all, only bits and pieces.” Her smile faded. “She died when I was three.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Sudie was like a mother to me, so I didn’t mourn the loss as much as I might have if my mother had lived longer.” Melender picked up her coffee with steady hands, but he caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes before she blinked the moisture away. “What about your family?”

These days, Brogan rarely spoke with his parents. After his disgrace, they had even less interest in their middle son, preferring to spend time with his older brain surgeon sister and younger lawyer brother. His father put a premium on success, while his mother only wanted to talk about positive things, not Brogan’s struggles. Brogan had been a close part of the family circle until his journalistic life imploded in such a public manner. “It’s complicated.”

“Families generally are.”

Her wry observation loosened his tongue, and he sketched a basic outline of his parents and siblings without conscious effort. “I haven’t seen them in a couple of years.”

“Not even for the holidays?” Her incredulous look sharply reminded him that she had spent every special occasion away from her family while in prison.

“It wasn’t on purpose, at least not on my part. Two years ago, my parents and brother flew out to visit my sister and her husband in San Francisco for Christmas. I was invited, but plane fare around the holidays was out of my budget. Last December, they all decided to spend the last two weeks of the year on a cruise around the Hawaiian Islands, but again, the cost of the cruise and airfare was more than I could afford to spend.”

A sharp stab of pain hit him at the memory of telling his mom the cruise was out of his financial reach. His well-to-do parents hadn’t offered to help. It was like she’d barely heard him, her voice rolling on about the challenges of packing for a cruise in the dead of winter. When he’d jumped in to ask when he could stop by to visit them before or after their trip, she put him off with a “We’ll get back to you on that, darling. You know how hectic things can be before a trip, and how tired we’ll be when we return.” In the end, he’d received a photo card featuring pictures of his siblings and parents against the backdrop of touristy Hawaiian settings and a pre-printed message. “Our family vacation.”

Melender touched his hand, yanking him back from those memories. “Now it’s my turn to say I’m sorry.”

He didn’t pull back but turned his hand over to lace his fingers through hers. For a second, he thought he’d scared her off. But she didn’t move. The warmth of her fingers countered the roughness of her skin. Without looking at her, he concentrated on their joined hands.

“Nothing to be sorry about. I sometimes feel like I was born into the wrong family. My mom, my dad, my brother, my sister, and even my brother-in-law all seem to be focused on climbing to the top. Of what, I haven’t figure out.” He rubbed his thumb along the top of her hand. “When I look back at my own mistakes, I think part of why I took those shortcuts was to earn my parents’ approval. To show them that I could find real success in journalism. But of course, that didn’t turn out so well.”

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