mirror, the aftermath of a killer’s success. His wife’s death. Why her? Why not Lisa? Why anyone?
“Oh, Adam...”
“Don’t tell him I said anything,” Adam instructed her. “I don’t want Alex to think I talk about him behind his back. Especially to my pesky, know-it-all big sister.”
“I won’t.” She set Rosie down, took the little one’s hand and moved forward. “But I’m glad you told me. Now I can be more sensitive to it if he lets me work with Emma on this 4-H project.”
“Lets you work on it?” Adam halted her progress with a hand to her arm. “You think he won’t?”
“If he doesn’t want reminders, walking into a place like this...” She waved a hand, pointing out the obvious. “Pink banners, pink flowers, pink hanging baskets and breast cancer information at every turn has to be like walking the plank. A slow and painful process.”
“Hey.” Adam turned her around and his no-nonsense cop face said she’d better listen up. “You do great work here. And it’s not like you guys are on different teams. You’ve just taken on the fight visibly, using the business to help raise people’s consciousness. There’s nothing wrong with that, sis.”
She knew that. And she wouldn’t change a thing, but now she realized why Alex looked war-torn on Saturday. And why the house of kids seemed chaotic on Sunday. And why he’d recoiled today.
She understood they were on the same team, in a way. But she’d survived.
His wife hadn’t.
And that made being on the same team unbelievably painful for him.
* * *
Alex glared at the clock, thumped his pillow twice because once wasn’t enough, then hauled himself out of bed the next morning. He thought he’d put sleepless nights behind him in Rochester.
Obviously not.
Lisa.
Cancer.
Pink.
The words dogged his morning routine. When Becky wanted milk, he gave her juice. When Josh whined about his game system, Alex didn’t even make the kid say please. And when Emma asked an innocent question about the start-up date for the garden plans, he’d snapped at her.
Right then he knew. He couldn’t do cancer again. He couldn’t do the watching and waiting. Not up close and personal. Never again.
He’d pray for Lisa’s continued good health from a distance. Which meant finding someone else to do Emma’s project, but even a small town must have more than one able-bodied gardener, right?
With that plan firmly in mind, he parked his car outside the Fillmore station house and strode in, determined. Jack Samson, a long-standing investigator, gave him a high-sign as he wrapped up a phone call. Alex approached him, a coffee cup in his left hand, his laptop bag in his right, and a self-made promise to push all thoughts of Lisa Fitzgerald aside, no matter how hard that might be. “What’s up, Jack?”
“Overnight grand theft of pricey gardening equipment.”
“Gardening equipment?”
“Well.” Jack raised his notepad and shrugged as he headed for the door. “Garden, farm, whatever. In this case it’s both because Gardens & Greens is a farm that’s a garden store, right?”
Gardens & Greens.
Robbed.
Lisa.
Alex’s heart did a double take. So did his brain. The thought that someone with ill intent got close to her. Close to her family...
Lisa.
He’d promised himself he’d stay away.
That pledge dissolved into dust at his feet as he hurried after Jack.
Jack turned at the car, puzzled. “You’re riding along?”
“Yes.”
The clipped word said Jack should leave it alone.
Jack did just that.
He nodded, climbed in and started the engine, but a tiny smile quirked the right side of his jaw, the only side Alex could see. “Okay, then.”
He’d accompany Jack, make sure everything was all right. That Lisa was all right. That no one was hurt. And then he’d leave.
One look at her face as they strode into the garden center office a few minutes later said leaving wasn’t an option. Knowing her past and seeing the pain of the present stamped across her pretty face, he longed to hug her.
He couldn’t.
His entire being yearned to comfort her, to pledge her safety, and yes, maybe even kiss that worry-furrow between her eyes, smooth it away.
Right now she looked like she could use a hero, but the cool look she passed over him as she locked gazes with Jack said he’d missed his shot by a country mile the day before.
Alex understood her reaction. He’d brushed her off when he found out she’d been sick, a coward’s choice. But the tables had shifted this morning, because someone had tried to hurt Lisa and her family.
Despite his promises to stay away, Alex had realized one thing: no one was allowed to hurt Lisa Fitzgerald. Ever.
Chapter Four
Sixteen hours ago, Lisa was pretty sure she wouldn’t see Alex again unless they passed on the streets of Jamison.
And here he was, a purposeful stride marking the reason for his visit. He looked...vigorous. Masterful. And completely unavailable.
Lisa trained her gaze on the slightly smaller, older man to Alex’s left. He stuck out a hand, first to her, then her father. “I’m Jack Samson. This is Lt. Steele.” He jerked his chin in Alex’s direction.
Ozzie nodded, polite, then shook Alex’s hand.
Lisa kept her gaze averted. The last thing she wanted to see was Alex’s pity. Or fear. Or repugnance. Therefore she wouldn’t look.
“So, what’s missing exactly?” Jack flipped open a small notebook and withdrew a pen.
“Our three-year-old Bobcat and a brand-new zero-turn mower.”
Jack whistled and arched a brow. “Ouch.”
“And then some,” Ozzie agreed.
Alex said nothing, but Lisa felt his gaze. She ignored the heat from his soul-searching gray eyes and reached across her desk. “Here are pictures of both.” She handed them over. The Bobcat was a simple advertising photo showing the T190 in all its pricey glory.
Alex eyed the small tractor and grimaced. “This baby is nearly thirty grand new, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Lisa replied without looking at him, but inside she wondered what he was thinking. How did she appear now that he knew she’d had cancer? That she’d gone through the same round of treatments his wife had endured with one major difference. Lisa was here to talk about it.
“And the mower?”
“It retails around seventy-five hundred new and we’ve only had it six weeks.”
“Show me where they were parked, Lisa.”
Her heart stammered.
Her pulse climbed.
She had to turn then, because Alex spoke directly to her. The take-command note in his voice said he’d done it intentionally, but Lisa didn’t take orders well. Or shift gears quickly. Until he’d walked through the office door moments ago, she’d shoved aside the needle-sharp brush-off he’d given her the previous day. At this moment, every fiber of her being wanted to shout at him, at cancer, at the unfairness