LITMIR.BIZ

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out of your leg...

      As Rod passed India’s house on the way home, he remembered that offer and wished he’d taken her up on it. Maybe then he’d be able to go back there and get lost in her all over again. He was eager for any distraction absorbing enough to take his mind off his aches and pains—as well as the ominous news he’d received a few minutes earlier, when Chief Bennett had called to warn him that Liam Crockett’s sister was urging her brother to press charges.

      If they sued for medical expenses, he’d have another fight on his hands, and this wouldn’t be physical, so he wasn’t as likely to win. His reputation—and the reputation of his family—would work against him, which was doubly unfair, since he hadn’t done even half the shit he’d been accused of doing.

      Once he’d parked in his drive, his phone buzzed. He’d received a message from Cheyenne, Dylan’s wife. She was planning to bring him dinner tonight. He liked it when she cooked. She tried to mother them the way Dylan fathered them. But she wasn’t coming until six, and it was only two. Rod supposed that if he couldn’t spend the afternoon with India, he should try to get some work done. Dylan had sent him home, wouldn’t let him stay at the shop, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t mow the yard. At least he’d have something to show for the day.

      He went inside to change into a pair of basketball shorts, which wouldn’t be as hot as his jeans. But then he noticed his laptop sitting on the coffee table and decided to take a minute to see if he could learn a few details about his new neighbor. He was more than a little curious, especially after last night.

      Groaning as he eased into a recliner, he logged on to the internet. When he typed the name “Dr. Charlie Sommers” into a search engine, he thought he’d be lucky to find a brief obituary that would tell him how India’s husband had died.

      But he got a lot more than that. Link after link filled the screen.

      Renowned Heart Surgeon Shot in Bed

      Wife Knew Gunman Who Killed Husband

      Dr. Sommers’s Parents Hire PI

      Secret Affair or Spurned Lover?

      Sebastian Young Charged in Sommers’s Murder

      Doctor’s Wife Claims Innocence

      Wife’s Ex-Boyfriend Murders Heart Surgeon?

      Surgeon’s Murder Trial Ends in Hung Jury

      “Holy shit,” Rod muttered as he read the accompanying articles. No wonder India didn’t talk about how her husband had died. Her ex-boyfriend had broken in late at night and gunned him down while they were both sleeping and their young daughter was in the other room. According to one journalist, who’d reported on the trial, India stated under oath that she’d awakened to the sound of her ex-boyfriend’s voice demanding Charlie get out of bed. When she realized it wasn’t a nightmare and managed to open her eyes, she saw Sebastian Young standing at the foot of the bed, holding a gun.

      Charlie, disoriented and barely awake, had reached for his cell—and was shot. The gunman then threatened to kill India’s daughter if India didn’t pack a bag and leave with him. She complied as far as gathering her things but pleaded and argued with him for the next few hours. It wasn’t until the housekeeper arrived the following morning, and the carpet cleaners rang the bell shortly after, that Sebastian dragged India out the back door. India claimed that he demanded she leave her child, which she wouldn’t do. She thought he was about to shoot her when the housekeeper stumbled on the bloody mess in the bedroom and started to scream. Fortunately, Sebastian didn’t pull the trigger. At that point, he panicked and ran.

      What a story! Rod rubbed his chin as he searched through even more links. The trial had lasted for three weeks but ended in a hung jury. Some questioned whether India could’ve been involved, whether she might’ve killed her husband and blamed Sebastian, or manipulated Sebastian into killing her husband for her. Although there’d never been any charges filed against her, the suspicion lingered, which became more and more apparent as he continued to read.

      Rod hoped to learn the DA’s decision on whether to try Young again, but he couldn’t find any word of it. The most recent articles were over a month old.

      What had happened since? Was this Sebastian still in jail, awaiting a new trial? Or had he been released? And if he’d been released, where the hell was he? Was India worried that he might come back? Was that the reason her in-laws had her daughter?

      She must have been severely traumatized. Not only had she lost her husband, she’d been villainized by the press and her detractors, too. “It’s always the spouse,” one neighbor had said.

      At first, no surprise, the police had focused on India. The money she stood to receive, and the value of Charlie’s life insurance policy, had given her more than a million reasons to get rid of him. There was even some mention of the type of people she’d associated with before her marriage, as if the friends she’d once had proved that she wasn’t a good person.

      They weren’t the sort Rod would’ve expected. One had belonged to an outlaw biker gang. She’d been with him for about a year—until he tried to run her over with his truck and she had to get a restraining order against him. Then she’d gotten involved with Sebastian, who’d robbed a store and spent four years in prison for it. Everyone pointed to that as proof that she must’ve known he was dangerous, that she must’ve wanted to get back with him when he was released from prison.

      But robbery wasn’t murder. Sebastian had threatened the liquor-store clerk by saying he had a gun in his pocket; he hadn’t really had one. Nobody had been hurt, and he’d served his sentence for that crime. Those were important distinctions, and yet her detractors hadn’t cut her any slack. What the detective on Charlie’s case had to say was important, too. He told one reporter that she’d never written Sebastian or visited him, not after she met Charlie. There were no texts between them that included anything questionable or suggestive and only a few calls, which was consistent with her story that she’d merely been trying to help him. Also, Sebastian had been out of prison for a year before he even reached out, and he did that on Facebook, so they had proof of first contact.

      Rod didn’t believe India had anything to do with Charlie’s murder, and the police must not have found any evidence to the contrary because they’d dismissed her as a suspect early on. Plenty of people continued to doubt her, though. Rod came across several articles that pointed a finger at her. But he understood what it was like to be judged on the basis of the past. There was no getting rid of the stigma attached to certain mistakes.

      Maybe he and India weren’t so different, after all.

      Setting his computer aside, he pulled his cell out of his pocket. He had her number from when she’d called last night, trying to find his phone. He’d nearly added her to his contacts list several times today, but he’d stopped himself. Now he went ahead. She was innocent of her husband’s death. She truly loved Charlie. Rod could see that last night. She’d told him as much.

      She’d also said she could use a friend, and he’d blown her off.

      He felt bad about that now.

      He felt even worse once he found her cookies.

      * * *

      India was concentrating so hard on her work that it took several seconds to realize someone was watching her. When it finally occurred to her that she had company, she jumped. She was so afraid Sebastian would appear out of nowhere, like he had before. But this time she knew who it would be. She’d heard Rod come home less than an hour earlier.

      “Hey.” He had a toothpick in his mouth and a cast on his right hand. He hooked his left on the wood overhang as he gazed through the screen.

      When she’d jerked, she’d messed up the pot she’d been throwing, which was unfortunate. She’d already started over several times. After what she’d heard from Detective Flores, she was too upset to have steady hands—and yet she’d needed something to do. She couldn’t sit there and worry indefinitely.

      She wouldn’t

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