Page 37 of Justice Delayed

Always careful of too much sun exposure, she’d only been poolside for half an hour. With a smile, she reached out a hand toward her husband. “I’m fine, but why are you home early?”

He sat on end of her lounge. “I’m not home early. It’s after six.”

Ruby blinked. She’d come outside at two-thirty after receiving the text with the photographs. Had she really lost track of time for that long? Quentin’s worried expression made her scramble for an acceptable excuse for her time lapse. “I guess I must have fallen asleep.”

Her explanation smoothed the lines from his forehead. “I’m glad you were in the shade and didn’t get a sunburn.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. “I heard someone broke into Melender’s apartment and trashed it.”

A tightness gripped her throat at the steady look in his eyes. He knew. Somehow, he knew she had instigated the break-in. “Is that so?”

Without breaking eye contact, Quentin continued. “Yes, there’s nothing left intact, and they left a pretty vile message spray-painted on the bedroom wall.”

Indignation rose in her like an erupting volcano. “She has no right to be walking around, living like a normal person. Not when our Jesse is still out there, somewhere.”

“I understand those feelings.” He cupped her cheek with his hand. “I miss our son every day too.”

Ruby stared at him. He rarely spoke of Jesse, didn’t cry on his birthday or Christmas like she did. As the years slipped by, she had begun to think her husband didn’t care that their son had no final resting place. But looking into his eyes, the depths of his own pain and loss became visible again, sharply reminding her of how she’d chosen not to notice his own pain.

Her hand over his, she turned her head and kissed his palm. “My darling, I’m so sorry.” Hers had simply been the more vocal, the more public grief. His had been more private, and therefore, less conspicuous.

Quentin scooted back on the lounge and drew her into his arms. Ruby nestled closer, laying her head on his shoulder. She would confess what she had done since he seemed to already know.

Together, they would come up with a plan to force Melender to tell them where Jesse was, and they could bring their little boy home. At last.

* * *

Melender cutthe engine and unbuckled her seatbelt. Brogan had insisted on following her to Walmart, then having her follow him to his aunt and uncle’s house. Since he offered to take Goliath in his car to keep the cat cool while she shopped, she’d agreed to the plan. The rambler tucked into an older neighborhood in Fairfax City was worlds away from the Thompsons’ McLean mansion, but the neat landscaping spoke of care. She still wasn’t sure about staying with Brogan’s aunt and uncle, but he had insisted they were willing, even after knowing her background, so here she was. He’d told them she needed to catch a few hours of sleep before her night shift, so she hoped it would be a quick introduction.

She had no sooner grabbed her bag of hastily-purchased clothes and minimal toiletries and climbed out of the car when the front door of the home opened. A plump older woman stepped onto the porch. The woman’s hand planted on her hip reminded Melender of the nursery rhyme about a little teapot short and stout. Melender stifled a chuckle.

“Brogan!” The woman threw her arms up for an embrace. “You’ve finally decided to come visit your aunt and uncle.”

“Aunt Colleen, it’s good to see you, too.” Balancing Goliath’s carrier in one hand, Brogan bounded up the short flight of steps and enveloped the woman in a one-armed hug.

Melender paused at the bottom of the steps leading to a covered porch that stretched down one side of the house.

Brogan released his aunt and turned to Melender. “Aunt Colleen, this is Melender Harman. Melender, this is Colleen Trent.”

Trent. Surely, it would be too much of a coincidence if Brogan’s aunt was married to the Nolan Trent from the music store. Melender pushed away that thought as she came up the steps and held out her hand. Mrs. Trent took Melender’s hand in hers and gave it a little squeeze before releasing it. The touch was over before it had barely began, leaving Melender feeling bereft and not quite knowing why. Mrs. Trent gazed straight into her eyes. “Welcome to our home, my dear.”

The kind words nearly undid Melender’s composure, but she hung on to her emotions by a thread. “Thank you for letting me and Goliath crash here.”

Mrs. Trent patted her arm, then moved to open the front door. “Let’s get inside out of this heat. I swear, August gets hotter and more humid every year.”

Brogan held the door for Melender. “Is Uncle Nolan home?”

“Nolan Trent, the musicologist?” The question burst out of Melender before Brogan could close the screen door behind her.

“Yes, that’s right.” Brogan frowned. “Do you know him?”

“We’ve met at Fox’s Music store,” Nolan Trent called from the top of the basement stairs to the right of the front door. He handed his wife a light bulb. “I can’t remember where we put these to recycle.”

Melender nodded when Brogan turned her way and raised his eyebrows. “I like to talk about music with Mr. Jimmy, the owner.”

“I see.” Brogan probably didn’t see, but the strange coincidence of Nolan Trent being Brogan’s uncle made Melender a little uneasy, especially after the way Mr. Trent had practically accused her of extortion over her grandmother’s dulcimer.

“Miss Harman, when Brogan told us about your situation, we were delighted to provide a place for you to say. And, Goliath, of course.” Mr. Trent offered her a slight smile as her cat meowed from the carrier. “It’s the least I can do after jumping to unfounded conclusions the other day at the music store.”

Melender pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache forming. She couldn’t deal with this right now. She desperately needed a few hours of sleep before she collapsed. “I appreciate it, but I only have a few hours before my evening shift, and I’ve been up since yesterday afternoon.”

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