“The house is haunted,” the clerk had said.
“Everyone’s got to live somewhere, even ghosts,” Jenna had joked. She could have explained that she wasn’t afraid of death or ghosts and she had an affinity for the damaged and lost. All had stalked her most of her life. But she’d only smiled. Sharing too much about her past never won her points.
Knock, knock, knock.
Jenna glanced out the door’s peephole and saw the two men. One had his back to the door and the other faced it. A tension rippled through their bodies; each was braced ready to fight. The body posture might have been clue enough but then she also noticed the one in front had a mid-grade suit, sensible shoes, and a short haircut. The one facing away from the house dressed with more style, but she also had him pegged.
They were cops.
Jenna could spot a cop because she was a cop in Baltimore, Maryland. She’d entered the academy when she was nineteen after two years of college had eaten what savings her aunt had squirreled away. She’d been faced with taking on more debt or getting a job. Becoming a police officer had never been on her life list, but when she’d read the recruiting ad and seen the salary and benefits, the decision to apply made sense. She’d never imagined a life of service when she’d made the commitment but she’d taken to structure and regime like a duck to water.
She’d been raised by a woman who craved organization like a junkie craved drugs. No dirty dishes in the sink. No clothes on the floor and the ones that landed in the hamper didn’t stay there long. Jenna still associated liquid pine cleaner with her aunt Lois.
Aunt Lois had been in her mid fifties when she’d made the decision to take Jenna away from Nashville. Many of Lois’s friends had questioned her decision to take on a troubled five-year-old. But Lois had been determined to take the child who was her last living blood relative. The two had made the seven-hundred-mile trip from Nashville to Baltimore alone. Jenna didn’t remember much conversation on that long-ago trip, only growing relief as they’d driven farther and father away from Nashville. There was never a lot of money to go around, but Lois saw to it that they got by. Turned out living together had been good for both. Lois and Jenna had come out of their shells, at least partway, together.
Pine cleaner. The scent lingered in Jenna’s new home, a holdover from the big scrubbing she’d given the home when she’d moved in her few belongings. Jenna inhaled and opened the door.
Her gaze landed first on the cop who faced her. He had dark eyes reflecting disbelief and curiosity. Those eyes would be hard to capture on paper. Too elusive and she’d always wonder if what he chose to reflect was indeed true.
Dark Eyes reached in his pocket and removed a slim black wallet and with the flick of his fingers revealed a shiny, new police shield. “Jenna Thompson?”
She studied the badge an extra beat and then nodded. “That’s correct.”
“I’m Rick Morgan. I’m a detective with Nashville Metro Homicide. This is my partner, Detective Jake Bishop. My sister, Georgia, said you’d be expecting us.”
At the sound of his name, Bishop turned. His eyes, a vivid gray, flickered over her, cataloging her loose peasant top, faded jeans, short nails dirtied by paint and charcoal, and a long, black braid that looped over her square shoulder. “Ma’am.”
“You’re Georgia’s brother?” She studied him for a family resemblance but didn’t find one.
“Yes. She said you might be interested in working with us on a case.”
Those eyes studied her and she suspected he was trying to peel back the layers. No doubt he’d asked around about her. He knew about Baltimore, knew she’d taken leave abruptly to visit Nashville. Dark Eyes wouldn’t be satisfied with the facts in her employee file. He’d keep looking and searching until all the stones had been flipped over and examined.
A fist of tension clenched in her chest. She’d said yes because she’d liked Georgia but now questioned the decision. “She said you had a tough case.”
Rick drew in a breath. “You’ll help?”
“Yes.” When Georgia had called her an hour ago, Jenna had said no. She needed a break from police work. It had been police work that had triggered this need to come to Nashville. But Georgia had not heard her first or her second no. She’d pressed and pointed out the victim was a child.
Hearing that, Jenna’s opposition had melted. She’d agreed to this one favor.
Detective Morgan raised a manila folder she’d not noticed before. “I’ve pictures I can show you. Can we come in?”
“Sure.” She stepped aside and allowed them into the cabin. As they moved toward the large A-framed living room, she slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops and followed behind.
As if he’d entered a crime scene, Detective Morgan’s gaze wantonly roamed the room. He absorbed the scene: two small sofas that faced each other, the coffee table between and the stack of art books arranged neatly in the center, a kitchen counter sporting only a bowl of apples, and then the easel that faced away. The furniture had come with the house, but the books and small touches were hers.
“I hear you do portraits at KC’s now,” Detective Morgan said.
“Yes.”
He moved toward the picture and for a moment she was distracted by the very small hitch in his step. He was doing his best to hide it but she catalogued the detail as if she’d never left the job.
“She said a few weeks.”
“That’s about right.” An image of half-erased eyes crossed her mind. “And I don’t allow anyone to view my work before it’s finished. So if you don’t mind.”
Detective Morgan hesitated just inches from the canvas but to his credit didn’t overstep. He faced her, a measure of curiosity now humming behind those eyes. “Sure.”
Extending a hand toward the couches, she looked at the other detective, taking comfort in his lack of interest. “Have a seat.”