Page 9 of Five Fingers of Death

At night, I couldn’t pretend my husband—the love of my life—was no longer gone.

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With my foot resting on the porch railing, I gently pushed myself on the swing as I buried my nose in yet another book. I had no idea where they came from, but every once in a while, I would find a box of books on the front porch. This one happened to be a non-fiction book about a murder that took place in a mansion in Minnesota. While I didn’t particularly care for non-fiction, wishing instead to get lost in someone else’s world, I found this book rather interesting.

I flipped the page, gnawing on my lip as I got to a rather tense part about the night of the murders. I was so engrossed in the story that I didn’t notice the man who walked up the steps until his shadow cast over the pages of my book.

Slowly, I looked up, sliding my foot off the railing in case I needed to run. But instead of feeling the need to run, I smiled kindly at the man in front of me.

“Bradford.”

He grinned widely at me, nodding to the swing. “May I sit?”

“Sure.”

I scooted over, making sure there was enough room for his large frame while also leaving a good amount of space between us. “What brings you by?”

He sighed heavily, leaning back as he stared out at the grounds. “Boredom. I’m still not allowed to go out on any jobs.”

“So, you thought you’d come visit me,” I teased.

He shot me a sly grin, shrugging slightly. “You caught me. I figured you might be as bored as me.”

“I have a book.” I held it up for him to see, even though he’d already seen it when he walked up.

“But I’m better company.”

His charming smile almost had me blushing, but then I instantly felt horrible for even thinking about his smile when my husband was in the ground. Bradford was one of the few men at OPS who had taken to visiting me without hesitation. Of course, he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere either, so we could commiserate over our situations.

“So, what are you up to today besides reading?”

“I’m not sure. I have no plans.”

“Want to go for a walk?”

That was the same as saying I needed to leave my house. I realized that the third time he asked me to go for a walk. “Sure.”

I set my book on the seat and stood, feeling a lot more at ease with him than the first few times he dropped by. He only came by about once or twice a week, but I appreciated the thought. Since Knight was no longer around, I had no one to keep an eye on me.

As usual, Bradford walked to the end of the porch, then waited for me like a gentleman. He never made an attempt to hold my hand or touch me in any way. But he seemed to know that I needed the push to go anywhere.

The moment my foot hit the last step, I felt that overwhelming need to rush back inside, but I pushed through it, knowing Knight would want me to keep pushing myself to leave the house. I sometimes wondered if Knight had asked Bradford to keep an eye on me, but he seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with me, even if it was just going on a walk. Maybe I was reading too much into the whole thing.

“So, do you know when you’ll get to go back to work?”

“Nope.”

My eyes slipped from his face, down to his neck where the raised scar stood out against his tanned skin. “They don’t have any suspects yet?”

He absently ran his hand over the scar, shaking his head. “Not yet. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure how much longer I can take this. I’m going stir crazy.”

“You could always take the opportunity to do something else.”

“Like what?”

I had no idea. What did I know about the real world?

“If you say read a book, this conversation will be over before it even started,” he grinned.

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