"Over here, Billy Wade." She backed away from the investigator. "Agent Reis, thank you for bringing my things, but I have to get to work."
"Of course. Let me know if you remember anything more." He leaned closer, his eyes over her shoulder. "Be careful. Schools aren't the safest places to hang out these days."
He brushed around and past, leaving behind his Double-mint gum scent and unwelcome doubts about her students, as well as questions about that whole strange once-over moment from Reis that still totally creeped her out. She'd been so looking forward to this tutoring session, yet suddenly she wanted nothing more than to rake pine straw with Carson.
And that unsettled her as much as the prospect of Reis prying in her personal life.
* * *
Prying the dog tag on his flight boot out of Jamie Price's mouth, Carson passed the toddler a graham cracker in exchange. If only adults were as easy to figure out as the pint-size versions. "There ya' go, kiddo."
The chubby-cheeked child snatched the treat and shoved it into his mouth in a shower of crumbs and cuteness. Carson ruffled the fella's dark curls, wiped the drool off the dog tag and climbed back up the ladder in the Price kitchen to replace the battery on the smoke detector.
He'd already checked every battery, furnace filter, window and door lock, and still it wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough until Nikki was in the clear and he knew exactly what happened the night Gary Owens died.
So he worked to fix what he could.
After leaving Nikki and her too-tempting rake, he'd run himself into a stupor until three in the morning. Not that sleep came easy with her eyes haunting the back of his eyelids. By sunrise, he'd decided his idea to spend more time with her may have been ill-advised. He would return to his original plan to check in with her family and Reis.
Except halfway to the marina for a day of sailing, he'd turned toward her parents' place to ask her to join him—just to keep her occupied and cheer her up after her forced sabbatical. Right.
Wrong.
Jesus. He hadn't been led around by his libido like this since high school. Still he waited for Nikki rather than simply leaving. And actually, hanging out with her mama and short stuff wasn't a great hardship. He suspected there were a lot of clues to what made Nikki tick to be found in this ivy-stenciled kitchen.
Rena reached into the cabinet and pulled down two Mason jars like the others perched on her windowsill. Water and plant clippings filled each glass container, some stems sprouting new root webs. "You're really going above and beyond in your acting commander duties."
He folded the ladder and propped it beside the fridge.
"The squadron's only at half power with the rest deployed overseas." This house brimmed with so much life—plants, kid, pregnancy, even rising bread—he could hardly take it all in. Take. He hated that word and was trying his damnedest not to be a taker like his parents.
She twisted on the faucet and slid a jar underneath the gushing flow. "Even at half power, you're still dealing with quite a load if you're giving everyone this much individual attention."
Of course she would know better. He was doing his job and pulling overtime, but even that didn't involve multiple home visits in a week. "These are extraordinary circumstances. Besides, J.T. and I have history from crewing together. He would look out for my family in the same way—if I had one."
Out of smoke detectors and furnace filters to fix, he dropped his restless butt at the table. For years he'd never questioned his decision to stay single, but parked in this kitchen, he couldn't ignore the regret tugging at him as strongly as the toddler yanking on the dog tag on his boot again.
The water overflowed. "Do we have reason to worry about Nikki?"
He held out his hands to the little guy on the floor to buy himself time to think. Plunking the kid on his knee, Carson tugged the dog tags from around his neck and passed them over. "I wish I had the answer to that one, Rena, but I honestly don't know."
She shuffled the jar to the counter and filled the other, then tossed two fern clippings inside before placing them on the sill. "She only tells me the basics about what happened with Gary Owens, so I worry all the more."
"The OSI agent leading the investigation seems sharp."
Rena sank into a chair across from him, nudging a line of tiny Tonka trucks across the table toward her son who ignored them in favor of his new favorite teething toy—dog tags. "So the worst that could happen is that Nikki—" she paused, swallowed, then continued "—killed him in self-defense as opposed to an accidental death."
The worst? Someone could be gunning for her, far worse.
And there were two women and a child here with just a college kid for protection. He didn't like this at all. To hell with worrying about treading warily while rebuilding a friendship. Damn straight he was concerned and he intended to talk to Reis about protection options. This would be easier if Rena and J. T. Price lived on base, except this whole mess had started on base. So if someone else had killed Owens, that someone had access to military installations.
All serious concerns, ones a pregnant woman didn't need. He studied her face as she rubbed her swelling belly.
"How are you feeling?"
She swung her feet up onto a spare chair. "Like I'll go stir-crazy sitting still for four more months."
"Seems to me there's plenty going on around here." He slid a discarded piece of junk mail across the table and started folding. "Don'tcha think, little guy?"