They didn’t speak as they walked, both lost in their own thoughts. Levi stayed on the rear porch while she let herself into the kitchen, smack-dab in the middle of a conversation between Jude and Beckett. They both jerked toward her, and she sighed. Bad timing for sure. She should have waited on the lemonade until the coast was clear. Too late to back out.
“Good morning,” she said brightly.
“You didn’t…” Beckett started.
“No, I didn’t. Levi escorted me here. I needed some lemonade.”
He blinked and handed over her cell phone. “At five o’clock in the morning?”
She was going to answer, but Jude interrupted. “It’s called a craving. Pregnant women get them.” The rest of his comment was implied. If you’d been around, you’d know that.
Beckett’s expression was caught between guilt and wonder. The raw vulnerability there made her look away.
“Oh, I… Right,” he said, marching to the fridge.
There was no sense insisting she could do it herself, as he poured her a glass of lemonade from the jug.
She took it and tried not to gulp it down. Beckett alternated staring at her and glaring at Jude. Whatever she’d walked in on didn’t seem to be breaking up anytime soon. The awkward quiet became too much for her to stand. She fidgeted with the glass. “Herm will be here soon to start on breakfast. Are you two going to help crack eggs, or is there some other reason why you’re taking up space in my kitchen?”
Jude didn’t smile at her teasing tone. “I dropped by to tell Beckett that the teens booked here were accounted for last night. They were playing video games at the time someone threw that rock at you. Their parents and the housekeeper both confirmed it.”
“Okay. Might have been someone from town, then,” she said, halfway through her lemonade.
By his furrowed brow, she could tell Beckett did not agree, but he was clearly focused on a different issue. “Jude was about to tell me about Kenny.”
“Yeah.” Jude tucked his thumbs into his belt loops. “I’m only sharing this with you so you don’t get ideas of butting in.”
“Tell me what?”
Jude let out a breath. “Got a report from a coworker at the gas station where Kenny is employed. She said she saw a knife in his backpack.”
Beckett’s hands fisted. “Parole violation. Can you arrest him?”
“First we’ll do a search of the premises,” Jude said. “You know, that pesky evidence thing.”
“Funny.”
“Parole officer’s in court today, so we’ll handle the search.”
Laney felt the lemonade burn in her stomach.
Beckett glowered. “You sent a unit?”
“Yeah. No sign of life at the trailer. Windows are dark. I have a cop standing by, waiting for me. I’m going to check it out right now.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No. Cop business.”
Beckett put his hands on his hips. “I’m going anyway, Jude.”
“I’ll arrest you for interference.”
“Do what you have to do, but I’m going. I’ll stay out of the way. I want to see him for myself. All I need is one look at him and I’ll know if he was the one who threw the rock.”
Jude scoffed. “You can read minds now?”
“No, but he’s got a hot temper, from what his buddies said. If he sees me, he won’t be able to keep his intentions under wraps. Kenny’s a grenade ready to blow. Let me see if I can pull the pin.”
“This may turn out to be nothing more than an error. We may have no grounds to arrest him for a parole violation if we don’t find that knife.”
“Then I want to see that for myself too.”
Laney saw the slow burn kindling in Jude, in direct proportion to the cement-like stubbornness rising in Beckett. It was like being dropped in the middle of a spaghetti Western. She could practically hear the tumbleweed blowing.
Beckett broke the silent standoff first. “He had his pals beat me up in prison. They could have killed me, but they didn’t. Instead they did something that would hurt worse—they threatened Laney. How do you think that feels?”
He and Jude exchanged a long look and something passed between them. Was it a glimmer of understanding? Jude had loved a woman deeply and lost her. Was he sympathizing? She had no idea. Why were men so stupendously hard to read? As the silence grew, she was not sure if she should finish her lemonade, start cracking eggs or go fetch Levi in case the two men started a wrestling match right there in the kitchen.
There was a tap at the door and Laney hurried to open it. Beckett got there first and looked through the window, opening the door to a startled Dr. Irene.
She wore a jogging suit, her black hair swept into a messy ponytail, glasses perched on her sweaty nose. Her small home was along the same road as the hotel, and Laney gave her carte blanche to snitch a cup of coffee after her regular early-morning run.
“I’m sorry,” Laney said. “I haven’t got the coffee going yet. There have been some distractions.”
Irene looked from Beckett to Jude to Laney. “I just bumped into Herm a minute ago near the chicken coop and he told me about the rock throwing. Are you okay?” She searched Laney’s face. “Please tell me you are not hurt. Herm said you were fine, but I need to hear that from you because men tend to miss details.”
Laney smiled. “I am not hurt. Really and truly, but I am glad to see you, especially now. There’s too much testosterone filling up this kitchen.”
Irene smothered a smile with her hand.
Beckett relaxed a notch. “I’m glad you’re here, Doc. The rock didn’t hit her, but she’s
