“You’re the one who got away,” he said with a blunt simplicity. “His failure has no doubt been festering for the past five years.”
She pressed a hand to her stomach, mentally willing herself not to return to that dark, horrifying night.
“What about your bargain?” she demanded.
“I want to stay here until the Butcher is caught,” he told her, his expression hardening. “Or dead.”
“Here?” It took her a second to process what he was saying. Then her heart started doing that crazy jerking and skidding again. She forced herself to take a deep breath. “Can’t you stay with your mother?”
He gave a dramatic shudder. “Various family members have already started to descend for the holidays, and unfortunately, they’ll no doubt stay until after Nate’s wedding at the end of next month. They tend to be like roaches who refuse to leave once they’ve invaded the place. Trust me, the house is filled to the rafters.”
“What about one of your brothers? I’m sure they have their own places with spare bedrooms.”
“They snore.”
“Then what about a hotel?”
“Too expensive. I’m just a poor teacher.”
She flattened her lips to keep them from curving into a smile. No one could be more charming than Ash Marcel when he put his mind to it. And no matter how hard she might pretend to be indifferent, she inwardly accepted that she was just as susceptible as she’d always been.
With an effort, she squashed the unnerving realization.
“I’m not an idiot. I know you think you need to protect me,” she said.
He shrugged without apology. “I want to make sure you’re safe.”
She glanced toward the large window that overlooked the front yard. “It’s no longer your job.”
She thought she heard his breath hiss between clenched teeth. Was he angered by her words?
“It will always be my job,” he told her in soft tones.
She flinched. “Because of Dad.”
“Because of us,” he insisted.
The soul-deep yearning she kept firmly locked deep inside her threatened to crack open. She gave a sharp shake of her head. No. Not now.
With an effort, she forced herself to turn to meet his gaze. “I appreciate your concern, Ash, but—”
He interrupted her assurance that she was just fine on her own. “I’m not done.”
She heaved a sigh. He could be as stubborn as a mule. “Okay. What do I get out of letting you stay here?”
He arched a brow, as if puzzled by her question. “I don’t think you understand, Remi. Your reward is having me as a guest.”
She made a choked sound. “Really? And what do you get out of the deal?”
“Your help in tracking down the Butcher.”
She stared at him in genuine surprise. He was asking for her assistance in looking for the killer?
“Are you being serious?” she rasped.
“Never more so.” His voice was somber, assuring her that he truly intended to ask for her help.
“But the last time you wouldn’t even discuss the case with me,” she reminded him.
He lifted his hands. “It was my job. I wasn’t allowed to discuss it with anyone.”
She studied him. He wasn’t giving her the full truth. Ash had never gossiped about private police matters, no matter what the case. But she suspected her father had been insistent that he keep his mouth shut about the Butcher. Her father had always tried to protect Remi from the ugliness of his job.
“And now?” she pressed.
“Now I’m a private citizen. I can do whatever the hell I want.”
She stiffened, struck by a sudden fear. “If you’re hoping I remember something about that night, you’re going to be disappointed.”
His eyes darkened to a deep indigo at the mention of her kidnapping. They’d both been scarred by that night.
“I know you can’t force the memories. Either they’ll return or they won’t,” he said.
She’d braced herself for the predictable sympathy. For months after the kidnapping—and her father’s death—she’d been smothered in pity. Thankfully, Ash seemed to remember just how much she hated it. His voice was brisk, almost indifferent.
She studied him in confusion. “Then how can I help?”
He reached out to touch the boxes he’d stacked on the coffee table. “I brought the notes your father and I made during the investigation. I hope we can go through them together. You might see something we missed.”
She released her breath on a shaky sigh. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how desperate she was for an opportunity to actively search for the Butcher.
For the past five years, she’d been treading water, as if she was caught in a quagmire she couldn’t escape. How could she move forward when the past continued to hold her hostage?
Ash was offering her the chance to break free of her prison.
“Yes,” she breathed.
He gave a slow nod, clearly sensing the emotions churning through her. “I also thought we might take a drive tomorrow.”
She took a second to gather her scattered thoughts. She didn’t want Ash regretting his offer to include her in the investigation.
“Drive where?” There. That was a perfectly intelligent question.
“To Bailey.”
“Bailey?” The name didn’t mean anything to her. “Is it a store?”
“No, it’s a little farm town south of here.”
“Why would we go there?”
“Angel Conway.”
She sent him an impatient glance. Was he being deliberately vague? “Who’s that?”
“The woman who was killed,” he clarified. “She lived in Bailey.”
Oh. Now she understood. “Is that where she was murdered?”
He shook his head. “No. Her body was found in Jameson Park. The cops believe that’s where she died.”
Remi considered his words. “How did Angel Conway end up in a park in Chicago?”
“I think he took her there.”
Remi’s stomach threatened to revolt as a jagged image of walking through darkness, a sense of evil looming behind her, flickered through her mind before disappearing as swiftly as it formed. She didn’t bother to try to hold on to it. Her memories from the night she was kidnapped were like a shattered window. She might be able to grasp a fragment for a few seconds, but it was impossible to put them together.
Belatedly realizing that Ash was regarding her with a frown, Remi rose to her feet.
“I’ll get the spare room ready,” she said, her tone brisk.
The last thing she wanted was Ash worried that she couldn’t handle the investigation.
His gaze lingered on her face before he rose to his feet. “Have you had dinner?”
“No.”
“I’ll order something.” He pulled his phone from the front pocket of his slacks. “Pizza okay?”
“I can cook,” she offered.
Ash flashed a quick smile, no doubt well aware that her cupboards were bare. Her lack of culinary skills had been a running joke between them.
“Pizza it is.”
* * *
Jax grimaced as he tossed away the last of his salad and headed out of the kitchenette just down the hall from his office. Getting old sucked. There was a time when he could eat two bacon cheeseburgers, a plate of fries, and polish it off with a slab of cake without putting on a pound. Now he couldn’t walk past a pastry display without his belt tightening.