Speak No Evil_ A Novel - Allison Brennan [63]
She’d thought he was, too.
The two brothers couldn’t be more different. Steve was gregarious, friendly, talked to everyone, and fit in with the students, though he was substantially older than most of them.
The sheriff, on the other hand, was aloof. Serious. Focused on his task. Even now, he was scanning the room. Discreet. On the outside he appeared casual, but she felt his rigid posture, his intense, subtle perusal of each person who walked up to the casket.
Carina couldn’t read Nick’s expression, which bugged her. She prided herself on being able to read people. “I guess things are still strained between you and your brother.”
“You could say that.”
“Were you two close before . . . this?”
He shrugged. “Not as close as when we were kids.”
“Why’s that?”
“Living in different states.”
“Why didn’t he return to Montana when he was put on disability?”
“Why does this sound like an interrogation?”
“It’s not. Just a conversation.”
“Hmm.”
He wasn’t answering her questions so she changed focus. She was curious about Nick Thomas, far more curious than simple professional interest. “How long have you been sheriff?”
“Nearly four years.”
“Before that?”
“Deputy.”
“For how long?”
“Eight years.”
Getting Nick to answer questions was like pulling teeth. Either he really didn’t want to talk, or he was truly a man of few words. She’d thought they’d broken through this reticence over the last few days they’d been on the same team.
“You?”
“Eleven years on the force, made detective fifteen months ago. I dropped out of college to join the police academy.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I dropped out of law school for the same reason.”
“Law school?” She looked at his profile. Ruggedly handsome, tan from spending a lot of time outdoors. “I don’t picture you as a lawyer.”
He shrugged. “I guess I didn’t, either.” Was that regret in his voice?
“What happened that you changed your mind?”
He didn’t answer right away. Then, “I didn’t like the idea of sitting at a desk all day.” He looked right at her and Carina swallowed. There was something very intense about Sheriff Nick Thomas. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt the brunt of his scrutiny, and it was a little unnerving, a little heady. Sexy. “That, and I wanted to help troubled kids,” he said. “You know the type, good kids in bad situations. One thing led to another and I joined the sheriff’s department.” He gave her a half-grin that made her insides melt. “What about you?” he asked. “Why’d you drop out of college?”
Her answer to that had always been flip: to spend more time on the waves. But the truth was that she’d spent more time in the ocean during her three years of college than the last eleven years on the police force.
“Someone I loved was murdered.”
Nick inched closer to her. He didn’t touch her, but she felt the caress in his voice more powerful than any physical connection. “I’m sorry. Violence changes lives. Everyone evil touches is affected.”
She couldn’t pull her eyes from his. The depth of compassion, of pain, of understanding . . . Outside of her family, she’d never found anyone who truly understood how she felt, why she’d needed to be a cop. Nick did.
“My nephew,” she whispered. “He was seven.”
Nick’s jaw clenched. “Did they catch the bastard?”
Carina shook her head, turning away as unwanted tears sprang to her eyes.
Nick squeezed her shoulder, briefly, but with strength. She took a deep breath.
“What do you think of that guy over there?”
Nick didn’t point, he barely gestured, but Carina read him like a lifelong partner.
A young man stood alone, separate from the crowd, half-obscured by a potted palm. Just shy of six feet tall, lanky, wearing slacks and a button-down.
As they watched, he approached Angie’s mother, who sat looking shell-shocked in front of the closed casket. They’d spoken to Mrs. Vance earlier in the day, sharing the bare minimum information they could, while still honestly answering her many questions. The pain and anguish in Mrs. Vance’s eyes, learning about her daughter