Page 14 of Murder in Calusa Cove
Hayes pounded his chest, coughing. “So, the FBI knows about your sister.”
She nodded. “But I kept that information from them when I entered Quantico and applied for the Violent Crimes Unit. My last name is different, so it wasn’t all that hard at first.”
“Why do you have different names?”
“I was married.”
“You’re full of surprises.” He thumbed through the file, not really reading the words on the pages, but rather scanning the big-picture details while he digested that juicy detail and dialed down the pang of jealousy that he had no right feeling. Their relationship had always been temporary, and just because he hadn’t been ready to walk away didn’t mean he had any reason to be mad over omitted facts about her past love life. It wasn’t like he’d blabbered all about his. “For how long?” he asked, as if that were the most normal question.
“About two years. We met when I was in law school, and he was there while I went through FBI training. However, we were doomed right from the start because I was more focused on using my career to catch Heather’s killer than being in a loving relationship. I put that before him, and it caused a lot of problems. I should’ve seen how bad things were right from the start, because when I came out of Quantico, I was tagged for the Violent Crimes Unit. I was all set to work in the field that would gain me the most access to my sister’s killer, but someone found out about Heather, told the brass, and my career trajectory changed. I was pissed. I expected Nick to be on my side, but he thought it was for the best.”
“Not to be a total asshole, but you know he’s right.” Hayes rubbed his temple. As much as it frustrated him that she’d chosen not to tell him these important little nuggets about her life, she knew nothing of his, including that he too had a twin—who had died—as well as numerous other things about his past, and if he wanted this fling to continue, he had to meet her halfway. Even if they never got back together—if they’d even been together to begin with—he did consider her a friend, and that meant something. Besides, she’d need support while she was forced to the sidelines, and he could be that guy.
He was always that guy.
She nodded. “I get that, but he could’ve been more empathetic instead of telling me to put away all my files and let someone else look for my sister’s killer.”
Hayes pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not in your nature to step aside, and he should’ve understood that you could never truly do nothing, even if you couldn’t have been the one actively running the case.”
She opened and closed her mouth three times before clearing her throat and saying, “Thank you for that.”
He shrugged. “I understand how demanding careers can be in the middle of relationships. I was a Navy SEAL, and for many, that means love is either something that’s most likely doomed, as you put it, or requires two incredibly unique people. Being an FBI agent, no matter the department, is a demanding one.”
“Nick and my parents don’t believe I would’ve become an agent had Heather not been murdered. At the time of her death, I was pre-law and considering a career as a prosecutor. But whatever I did, it was always going to be in law enforcement. Either way, I’ve been obsessed with this my entire adult life.” She brushed a tear away, a rare display of emotion. “I blame myself for what happened to Heather.”
Hayes set the folder aside. He could stare at it, read it, and probably get the intel he needed. But at the end of the day, he’d rather hear everything right from Chloe. He inched closer, resting his elbows on the counter. “I understand how that goes. I blame myself for a plethora of things.”
“You can’t do that.” She shook her head. “Missions are different.”
“Outside of Ken, that’s not what I’m talking about.” He sighed, wondering how he could transition this conversation without making it all about himself, but if he wanted to be with her, this had to be a give-and-take. “I owe you an apology because, while I was more hurt than mad about you not being honest with me about your job, I haven’t been any better about my life, and I’d like for us to start over.”
She cocked her head, and her eyes went wide. “Start over? I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’m not in a good head space for a relationship, and you don’t do them.”
“I know, but that doesn’t change the fact that I wasn’t ready for whatever this is between us to end.” He took her hand. “I’d be happy for us to be friends,” he said. “We’re both guarded, and being that way, we keep people in our lives at a distance. I even did it with my buddies without even realizing my walls are so high that I can’t climb over them.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you speak in weird circles?”
“One of my sisters.” He smiled, thinking about his two older sisters, Lisa and Nellie. “And I have six.”
“Excuse me?” Her eyes widened.
“I’m actually one of twelve.” He held up his hand. “I also had a twin who died, though Max and I were only six when he passed.”
Chloe gasped, covering her mouth. It was odd to hear her make that noise. She’d always been calm and collected…professional. Not much rattled Chloe, but this had, and knowing she had a sister who had been murdered, well, that affected him deeply, too.
“What happened?” she whispered, dropping her hands to the counter. Her eyelashes fluttered over her dark orbs like a butterfly taking flight.
“It might be easier to show you something before diving into that tale.” He raced to his bedroom and rummaged through his closet until he found the shoebox he kept hidden in the back. It wasn’t that he didn’t want anyone to know about his family. It was just always so hard to explain the little details. Besides, how could he expect people not to judge when he’d placed a massive amount of judgment on his family and the community they lived in?
He pulled out the last family portrait taken at Doug’s wedding just last year. As he rounded the corner back into the kitchen, his heartbeat lodged in his throat. “I was raised in a fundamentalist church,” he blurted as he pushed the picture across the table. It was always so strange to say that to anyone. Most didn’t understand what that meant. “Almost all of my family is still associated with this group, except for my brother Mickey.” Hayes tapped the picture, pointing out one of his younger brothers. “He and his wife lost a child two years ago, much like the way Max died.”
“Everyone, but you, Mickey, and his family, are dressed in what looks like Little House on the Prairie outfits. The boys and men with dark pants, suspenders, and white shirts. The woman with long, plain, blue dresses that cover everything.” She glanced up and blinked. “All the women have long hair with matching braids.”
Hayes sighed. He knew what his family was and what they looked like. A quiet shame settled in, steady and unwelcome, as he grappled with the simple truth—he was more shaken by the embarrassment than he wanted to admit. “I know.”
“Does your father have more than one wife?”
“No.” Hayes shook his head and snorted. Everyone always asked. “It’s not a polygamist group. Nothing they practice is illegal. They’re just extremely strict in their religion, and their knowledge of the world is from the Dark Ages. For the most part, they want to keep it that way.”
