For the second time in a few short weeks, Tory watched Josh walk into the kitchen wearing his marine dress blues. Her heart ached for him.
He paused next to the round oak table. Red-striped blue trousers, stiff-collared navy jacket, clean-shaven, every inch of him perfectly groomed.
This morning, he hadn’t even made the pretense of being able to eat. He had lost a very good friend. He was focused on that loss and on paying his final respects.
But one thing was different this morning. Tory was going with him.
“I’m ready whenever you are,” she said. She’d been glad he’d asked her to go, though it hadn’t taken long to realize she had nothing appropriate to wear.
When she’d mentioned going shopping, Josh had insisted on going with her. She didn’t like being dependent on him for protection or anything else, but until they knew for sure what was going on, she didn’t have much choice.
It had taken more persuasion than she would have liked, but he’d finally agreed to let her and Ivy wander the shops along Main Street while he ran some errands—as long as she let him pay.
At a boutique called Sassy’s, she purchased a pretty little blue sundress with tulips on the front for Ivy, and a modest black skirt-suit and a peach silk blouse for herself, the kind of clothes she had worn to work back in Phoenix.
A decent pair of mid-heeled black patent pumps and a matching over-the-shoulder bag had managed to survive the arduous cross-country journey that had landed her in Texas.
“It’s a little over two hours to Gainesville,” Josh said, breaking into her thoughts as she stood in the kitchen. “We’d better get going.”
Since the guys had planned a get-together after the funeral, they’d decided to spend the night. Mrs. Thompson had agreed to watch Ivy, who loved to stay with her. Tory thought the older woman would babysit for free if Josh didn’t insist on paying her.
Gardening was their latest project. Ivy was tending her own vegetable patch, which seemed like such a good idea Tory had decided to plant a garden at the ranch.
Tory grabbed her overnight bag and Josh grabbed his. They gathered up Ivy and her things and headed out to the pickup.
“You look pretty,” Ivy said to Josh as he lifted her into her booster seat.
His mouth edged into the faintest of smiles, the first in days. “Men don’t look pretty, sweetheart. They look handsome.”
Ivy giggled. “I like your suit.”
He laughed. “Thanks. I like yours, too.” She was wearing her new blue sundress, though she would have to change before working in the garden.
It didn’t take long to get Ivy settled at Clara Thompson’s; then they were heading out of town. The storm had moved on by the middle of the week, leaving the weather hot and damp.
As the miles slipped past, they talked about their families. Tory told him about Jamie and the terrible wreck that had killed both him and her mother.
“It was the worst day of my life. If I hadn’t had Ivy, I’m not sure I would have survived it.”
“You’re strong, Tory. You’d have made it.”
Josh had opened up as he rarely did and talked about his mom, how hard it had been growing up back then, losing his mother to lung cancer, how lucky he was to have found his older brother.
“Linc’s the best. I always know I can count on him, and he knows he can count on me.”
Eventually, the ride came to an end. Tory walked next to Josh across the manicured green lawns of the cemetery, with Josh’s white gloved hand holding on to hers. His jaw was set, his expression hard beneath the brim of his round white, billed cap.
But when he looked at her, his hard look softened and she caught a glimpse of pain. Everything inside her ached for him. Tory was glad she had come.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The ceremony was over. Josh led Tory across the grass to meet a few more of his friends. The guys couldn’t wait to tell her they called him Superman—a name they’d hung on him because of his shooting skills. He was no Superman, but it was true he rarely missed.
He stepped up to make introductions. “Tory, this is Kirby Waldruth.” The guy was a blond, blue-eyed, unrepentant rogue. “He’s the friend who called about Coy.”
He clapped another friend on the back. “This is Mac Mc-Donough.” Red hair and freckles. “And this joker is Lavon Harvey. We call him Night.” He was African-American, every bit as dark as his name, and at night he was deadly.
Lavon tipped his cap. “Ma’am.” He was tall, lean, tough, and loyal. Josh felt lucky to know him.
“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Tory said. “I’m sorry for the loss of your friend.”
The mood darkened at the reminder.
“You two going over to Coy’s parents’ house?” Kirby asked.
“We’ll be there.”
They talked a little longer, and then Kirby and the men began to disperse. The rest of the crowd started wandering away. As they walked back toward Josh’s truck, a group of marines from out of town were being stopped on the way to their vehicles by a couple of men in dark suits—police detectives, Josh figured. There were now two murders to solve.
“What’s going on?” Tory asked.
“I’m guessing they’re cops or feds. They’re talking to the guys from out of town.”
Just then a black-haired, olive-skinned man in a navy blue suit walked up to him. “You Joshua Cain?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m Detective Rafe Dominguez, Gainesville PD. I’d like to talk to you about your friend.”
Josh nodded. “All right.” He stepped over to the side, out of the way, eased Tory along with him. “What do you want to know?” He didn’t introduce her. She had enough trouble without adding more.
But the detective was determined to do his job, which in a way was a plus.
Dominguez arched a black eyebrow. “And you are?”
“Victoria Bradford. I didn’t know Coy Whitmore. I’m just here with Josh.”
Dominguez nodded. “When’s the last time you spoke to Coy?” he asked Josh.
“We talked at Pete Saldana’s funeral. You know about Pete?”
“We know.”
“But the police just think both of them being shot in the head is a coincidence.”
“Be easier to think that. Starting to look like it might be something else.”
“Yeah, like what?” Josh asked.
“Both men knew each other, both came out of Marine Corp Special Operations. Different teams, I gather, but both in Afghanistan at the same time. Pete’s been back in the States longer than Coy. But they stayed in touch.”
Maybe this guy had a brain. “So where’s that information take you?”
“Killer could have been a friend, someone they both knew. Someone they both pissed off. Could be woman trouble. Looks like Whitmore was quite the stud here in Gainesville. Big on one-night stands. Saldana was a family man but there’s always a chance he was playing around. They were friends. Maybe they shared a woman and someone didn’t like it.”
“Not Pete.”
“Whitmore liked to gamble. Played poker. Lost too much on occasion. Saldana liked to play the horses. We’re working that angle.”
“Could be a lot of things,” Josh said. “Whatever’s going on, I don’t think it’s coincidence.”
“Maybe not. We’re just getting started. You got anything to add that might point us in the right direction?”
He couldn’t think of a thing. Coy had always been a rounder, a little too wild for his own good. He’d been wounded, had to leave the marines, but he’d never really settled down. Pete wasn’t like that. When his wife found out she had breast cancer, Pete had left the military to help with his kids.
“I wish I had something,” Josh said.
The detective handed him a card. “You think of anything, call me.”
He just nodded. The whole mess had his stomach tied in knots. He set a hand at Tory’s waist, urging her back toward the pickup parked along the curb.