“I gave her a goddammed ring! I asked her to marry me. She said yes.”
“And Georgia, from the moment she met Melissa, knew it wouldn’t last. Melissa was one of your lost souls. Another broken person to fix. Georgia knew you weren’t really in love with Melissa.”
He slammed his beer bottle on the counter, sloshing beer on his hand. “What the hell does that mean? I never talked to our sister about shit.”
“Georgia said it was written all over your face and your body language when you two were together. And if Georgia could see it coming so could Melissa. Melissa might have been crazy, but she wasn’t stupid. And that bit about throwing me under the bus was Melissa’s final twisted way of getting back at you.”
The truth was, he’d had major doubts about the engagement. But before he could process what he was thinking, his father had died and he’d been shot. What had Georgia seen in him? What had tipped Melissa off? The facts danced in front of him but he clung to his fury. “Melissa had no reason to lie.”
Alex set his beer down hard on the granite countertop. “I didn’t come here to debate whether she’s a liar or not. I know she is. I came here to tell you I’m pissed at you.”
He shook his head, incredulous. “You’re pissed at me?”
“I sure as shit am mad. You should have trusted my word. I’ve never lied to you. Ever.”
Rick stared into the depths of his bottle. The flare of anger dimmed in the spray of logic. Alex had tried to talk to him and he’d not listened. Alex had written him a letter and he’d torn it up. Suddenly, he imagined the universe setting a big plate of crow before him.
Unwilling to release the anger just yet, he asked, “When is the last time you saw her?”
Alex shook his head. “At Dad’s funeral. When she was with you. Days before you were shot.”
He remembered that cold, rainy day they’d buried their father. They’d stood huddled around the gravesite and he and his siblings had watched as their father’s casket had been lowered into the ground. Melissa had clung to him. Too tight from what he’d remembered. He’d had to wrestle his arm free to toss his handful of dirt onto the casket.
Rick rubbed the back of his neck. “Saying that I did overreact.”
“Shit. You overreacted!” Of the three Morgan brothers, Alex had the worst temper. It might be covered in layers of ice, but the temper was there. A slight to his integrity would have set him off.
“Saying, I did.” Rick blew out a breath. “Then I’d have been wrong.”
A heavy silence settled in the room and, for a moment, neither brother spoke.
“Dad had died. You’d just been shot,” Alex said. “It was a bad time.”
“I was angry.” Digging into the muck of emotion was a bit like putting his hand into a pit of snakes. “Easier to be mad at you than everything else.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
Alex released a breath as if he’d been holding it for a year and a half. “Accepted.”
Rick swallowed emotion too sharp to voice.
Alex took a long sip of beer. “I like what you’ve done with the house.”
The conversation shift was as sudden as it was welcome. “Thanks. And thanks for the files. Especially after all that I said.”
“Only missing persons files could be considered a peace offering in this cop family.”
“Did you know Jenna Thompson’s missing persons file was in the stack you sent? We didn’t look past recovered on the front flap.”
“She’s the artist that got blindsided by Martinez in the interview.”
“Yeah. Sometimes the answer is right in front of you.”
“Jenna Thompson handled it well and her sketch was amazing. You should get a hit soon.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. The sound of Jenna’s name calmed his blood pressure. “The station is going to run the picture for several more days.” Alex had always been his confidant growing up. He’d missed that connection. “Pisses me off I didn’t see it coming.”
“No one saw it,” Alex said.
Rick took another pull on the beer. “Jenna is considering doing an extensive interview with Martinez.”
“Why?”
“She’s trying to dig into her past. Trying to make sense of it.”
“Dad and KC must have handled that case.”
“You’re right. Dad’s handwriting was all over J. E. Thompson’s missing persons file.”
“No shit.” Alex sighed.
“Every time I see his handwriting in a file, I half-expect to see him walk into the room.”
“I miss the old bastard.”
“Yeah.”
Alex straightened his shoulders. “Jenna’s got to be carrying some emotional baggage. Shit, no kid can go through what she did and not be scarred.”
He remembered her stern, cold expression when she’d closed the door in his face. “She’s not crazy, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“You sure she’s not another Melissa?”
Rick shook his head. “She’s not.”
“Sure?”
Jenna wasn’t Melissa. He’d known that from the instant he’d met her. Independent and strong, she’d not even hinted that she needed him or anyone else. Melissa had been the opposite. Always clinging. Worrying. “Jenna might be searching, but she’s not crazy.”
Alex arched a brow as he raised his beer to his lips. “Defending?”
“No.”
Alex shook his head. “Fuck.”
“What?”
“You got a thing for her.”
No. Yes. Maybe. “I don’t know. I sure as hell am not getting into another relationship. Too much work.”
A heavy sigh escaped. “Find yourself a nice normal girl with no baggage, Rick. One that doesn’t need her life fixed.”
“I’m not in the market for broken people.”
“You think you can fix everything like you fixed the Big House. You don’t need a woman with issues. Find another.”
It had been so long since they’d spoken so openly and easily and it struck him how quickly they’d fallen back into old habits. “It’s not like I found this one. Our relationship is professional.”
Alex laughed. “Then why’re we having this conversation?”