The bitter, nagging voice in the backburner of her brain moved to the center. Her mother’s complete dependency on men and alcohol had always sickened her. She’d vowed never to be like the woman who’d failed miserably at raising her, and letting Travis in would be breaking that vow.
No matter how sincere he seemed, no matter how much her heart cried out for her to spend just another ten minutes with him, she couldn’t let down her guard. Suzanna always teased her, saying she’d end up an old spinster, but it was better to be a spinster than be used by a man. Even if that man was Travis Gage.
“I’m actually really tired,” she said quietly, reaching for the door handle. “Why don’t you call me tomorrow and we can figure out our next move?”
She saw disappointment flash through his eyes and had to wonder what evoked it. Was he disappointed at the thought of not spending time with her? Or disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to get her into bed?
Not wanting to find out, she said a quick goodbye and hopped out of his car. She didn’t turn back once to look at him. Instead, she darted into the building, said hello to the security guard, and took the elevator up to the sixth floor.
Inside her apartment, Rachel let out the breath she’d been holding since saying goodbye to Travis.
“I don’t need him,” she muttered to herself. “I don’t need anybody.”
An hour later, as she sat on the couch and listened to the overwhelming silence of her apartment, she was still trying to convince herself of that.
Call her.
Travis ignored the little voice in his head and tried to focus on the stack of paperwork on his desk. What he disliked most about his job was the paper pushing involved after the solving of a case. He loved the thrill of the chase, tracking down suspects, interviewing witnesses, studying old evidence to find new clues, but writing everything down? Well, that was tedious.
Call her.
No. Not yet. He knew he ought to call Rachel and tell her everything he’d learned, but he simply didn’t have the heart to tell her. Which only pissed him off royally. He wasn’t the kind of man to shy away from saying what was on his mind. He was good at presenting the facts, whether they were positive or negative, and then detaching himself from the consequences. So why couldn’t he do that now, with Rachel? The thought of seeing her big green eyes widen with confusion and disbelief made him hesitant to tell her the truth. She’d loved her sister, and he knew what he’d learned might hurt her deeply.
Damn that woman. Why did he suddenly care if she got hurt? He may have kissed her, yes. He was growing more attracted to her as each day passed, yes. But he feared he was getting too close and he wasn’t sure he liked it. Jess’s death, devastating as it was, had brought a new focus to his life. His partner called it a crusade, but to Travis it was simply a mission. Solving cases and saving people, that’s what he did now.
Did he want to save Rachel? Was that it? He’d thought he’d needed his own answers about Carrie’s suicide, but he had them now. The ones pertaining to him, anyway. And yet he was still involved. Still determined to help Rachel find the closure she wanted, the closure she needed in order to put her painful past behind her.
“Trav, turns out the neighbor in the Davis case remembers seeing our suspect the night of the shooting,” Matt said, poking his head into Travis’s office. “I told her we’d be over there in twenty minutes to take her statement.”
Travis nodded absently. “Give me two minutes. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Matt didn’t move. “What’s going on with you today? You’ve been distracted all morning.” He hesitated, as if he didn’t want to pry. “Does your distraction have anything to do with that woman you spent an hour talking to on the phone earlier?”
Travis ignored the question. “Two minutes. Downstairs.”
Matt disappeared into the hallway, and as Travis collected his jacket and badge, he wished he’d never decided to do a little digging of his own today. After the less than successful conversation with Layla yesterday, he’d decided to track down some faculty members from their old high school, teachers Carrie might have confided in. Mrs. Greenley, the guidance counselor, had immediately come to mind, and so Travis had found the woman, who now lived in Maine. Since a trip to Maine was not an option at the moment, he’d picked up the phone and called her. He hadn’t thought Rachel would mind if he handled the phone call on his own, and now, he was glad Rachel hadn’t been around to hear what Mrs. Greenley had to say.
“Travis, Matt says to get your butt downstairs before he arrests you for procrastination,” Jenny’s voice crackled from the intercom.
Rolling his eyes, Travis left the office and maneuvered through the station until he reached the front lobby.
“Two minutes, my ass,” Matt cracked as he spotted Travis. “Ready to do your job?”
Travis shot his partner a lazy grin. “I’m always ready to do my job.”