Her pouty mouth dropped open.
“I’m not good at this.” Heat flushed his neck and he shifted his weight. Yeah, he was closer distance-wise, but making people feel at ease wasn’t his thing. Wilder should have sent Jody. She was a female. And Caley and Wilder’s cousin. Had lots of words. Too many for his taste, but still. Shep was the worst at words. Worst at mushy-mush. He ground his jaw and sucked it up. “You need some physical contact?” Say no.
Caley’s eyebrows shot north at lightning speed. “Physical contact?”
“You know a hug or pat or something?” He stood like a dummy, not even knowing what to do with his hands—hands skilled at war, inexperienced at comfort—so he jammed them in his cargo shorts’ pockets.
“A hug? Or pat?” She crinkled her nose as if she’d gotten a whiff of a rotten odor.
“Or something,” he muttered.
Caley slowly shook her head. “No. I don’t need a hug or pat from you. I could use information, though. Like how did you get here so fast?”
“I was in Tampa.”
“Wilder said he was making some calls. Did he change his mind and put boots on the ground? Are you going to the medical examiner’s office for answers instead?”
Turtle Girl was an arsenal of questions.
She eyed his torso and neck. “You can stand down, soldier.”
Shep hadn’t realized he’d been tensed. But being around Caley Flynn made him nervous. He relaxed his shoulders. “He’s still making calls to our contact at the police department and the medical examiner’s office.”
“So why did he send you?” she asked.
“To make sure you remain calm.”
She snickered.
Why was that so funny?
“So offering some physical contact is your way of doing it?” A slender dark eyebrow rose.
Heat flushed his cheeks. “Well...no. Just seemed... I don’t know, like, maybe you needed it, but it appears you’re okay and don’t.” The woman sent his tongue into a knot. “Wilder said you were scared.” And wished he was there. But he couldn’t be. So he’d sent Shep. The last person she seemed to want here.
She slipped her bottom lip in her mouth. “I’m okay, Shepherd.” She didn’t seem 100 percent. “I was on my way next door to the dormitory to pack up Mary Beth’s belongings.”
“The vic?”
“The intern who died. My intern.” She pursed her lips and headed for the doors, mumbling something about her brother being a dope.
“Sorry.” He followed her, catching a hint of something fruity. She was like a ballerina, the kind that popped out of jewelry boxes. All slender and dainty. Her voice even sounded like a music box melody. He’d know. One of his many foster moms kept a box like that on her dresser. She also kept cash inside. Taking that cash had sent him straight back to the group home until another family thought they could love him into being a healthy boy, or until the government money for keeping him in their care wasn’t worth it anymore. No one had wanted him.
“So that’s why he didn’t send Jody? You were thirty minutes away?”
He snorted. Nope, Caley Flynn didn’t want him. “All you got is me, Little Flynn. Sorry to disappoint.”
She frowned. “As you can see, I’m fine. If you want to get back to your work in Tampa, you can.”
“It was a vacation.”
“Oh. Well, now I’m sorry.” She pushed open the door and waited for him to exit, then she locked it. “What are you doing there? Partying it up on the strip?” No contempt in her question. Neutral. But clearly his past preceded him.
“Nope.” He hadn’t lived that kind of lifestyle since he gave his life to Jesus in Afghanistan. But no one seemed to notice that. Just what he’d done beforehand.
“So what are you doing then?”
“Chartering a boat to deep-sea fish. Then boarding a cruise liner for the West Indies.” He followed her across the parking lot into the sand. His shoes were going to be filled with it. “Was this a motel?” The soft pink stucco building was rectangular with palm trees flanking the double glass doors.
“Yep. The center purchased it several years ago and converted it.”
“You live here?”
“Me? No. I live a few miles away. Little bungalow on the beach.”
Shep stayed on her six into the cool building, condensation fogging the glass. “Live alone?”
She gave him a strange half smile, almost confused. “No. I live with my landlord, Miss Whittle. She’s a sweetie.”
Like Caley.
She turned left and strode down a long hallway. Soft hums of TVs and chatter carried from the rooms. Not that he expected kids to be asleep even after midnight, but he did expect more buzz after losing one of their own.
“Mary Beth’s room is at the end of the hall.” She pointed to the last door on the right. As they neared it, Caley slowed. “I can’t believe she’s gone,” she murmured.
Against his better judgment, Shep rested a hand on Caley’s shoulder and patted. “There there.”
Caley let an exhausted chuckle loose and touched his hand. Hers was so small next to his. “Thanks, Shepherd.” She seemed to mean it. Maybe he did all right. She unlocked the door, stepped inside and gasped.
* * *
Caley froze in Mary Beth’s room. Nothing but a sliver of moonlight to outline the shadowy hooded figure by the window. He paused, then grabbed a brass lamp and chucked it toward her.
A force shoved her aside and she crumpled to her knees.
Shepherd used his forearm to knock the blow of the lamp away.
The intruder was already halfway through the window.
Lunging, Shepherd latched on to the attacker’s leg, yanking him inside, but the assailant used his other leg and rammed it straight into Shep’s nose, giving him enough leverage to scurry out the window.
Shep wiped the blood seeping from his nose. “You gonna make it, Little Flynn?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” Dazed. Terrified. But alive.
“Good.” Shepherd lurched out the window and disappeared.
Caley flipped on the dorm light, revealing the disaster before her. Drawers had been tossed. Papers and books littered the floor along with everything that had been on the top shelf of Mary Beth’s closet. Even her mattress had been overturned.
She laid a hand on her heart, willing it to slow its pace.
What had the intruder been searching for? And why such a mess? Why not come in and meticulously comb through everything so no one would be the wiser? Especially if the break-in was related to Mary Beth’s death, which was likely going to be ruled an accident.
But now?
Now, it was obvious foul play was at hand. This was too much to be a coincidence. So whoever had come in here like a tornado must have been desperate. The big question was what on earth did he want?
Caley rubbed her sore knee and sat on the edge of the upturned mattress. Of all the people to send why did Wilder send Shepherd Lightman? If his imposing size wasn’t enough to scare someone half to death, the menacing blue eyes, almost gray, and faint scar running through his right eyebrow separating the hairs was. He rarely spoke, but when he did his voice was unmistakable.