Page 59 of Three Steps Behind

Brookes’s expression blanked. “What?”

Deck crossed one boot over the opposite knee. “You didn’t know?” His facial expression and body language said he had zero clue, but Tay could have told him before she died—if so, it would give him a solid motive.

Brookes’s brow furrowed. “That can’t be right.”

“I assure you it is.” Harper rested her hands in her lap. “Any idea why she’d do that?”

“No, I’m at a total loss. Are you sure?” he asked again.

“Positive.”

He released a sad chuckle. “Leave it to Tay to do something like that.”

“Do you mind me asking why you?”

He raked a hand through his hair. “We weren’t having an affair if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No. I was just curious. It’s a lot money, and Tay always does things with meaning.”

“Yes, she did.” He shifted his stance. “I run a tennis clinic for kids that can’t afford lessons. I’m turning it into a foundation and expanding it, or at least I was planning to when I had the funds.”

“So Tay had a very good reason,” Harper said.

Brookes shook his head nice and slow. “I still can’t believe she did it.”

Twenty-Three

AT 11:00 A.M. on the dot, Harper climbed the brick steps leading up Taylor and Nick’s porch for the remembrance ceremony. How many times had she gone up them? All for wonderful times with her friend, and now she was gone. The stark reality of it sunk in.

“You ready for this?” Deckard asked.

“Yes. I’m very curious to see how Nick behaves today,” she whispered. Would he be his true self or play the doting husband? Definitely the latter. Her stomach rolled at the thought of him playing the grieving widower. Maybe he was truly grieving. Perhaps he was innocent, and she was being too harsh. But how he’d treated her friend before her death spoke volumes of his character, or rather, lack thereof.

Deckard held the storm door open for her, wind whipping at her dress coat as voices carried through the wooden door.

“Thanks,” she said, turning to face him. “You’ll watch him closely, won’t you? You’re better at reading people.” Her voice remained barely above the hum of a whisper.

“Oh, come on.” He tucked a loose strand of hair from her messy bun behind her ear, but the wind just whipped it loose again. “You’re very talented.”

“At reading evidence.” Sure. “Not people.” She exhaled, wishing she could see straight through Nick to know what really happened the night of Taylor’s death.

“We’ll do it together. Okay, Ace?” He winked, and heat flushed her cheeks. How she wished with everything inside of her that she’d just stayed home from the humanitarian trip in the first place. Her heart had screamed for her to stay with Deckard, but he hadn’t been ready for a relationship, and she’d convinced herself she wasn’t either, so she’d gone and now regretted it with every fiber of her being.

Now . . . she was too much of a mess from all she’d endured and feared she’d never get past what happened. It was early in the recovery process, but as deep as the sorrow and fear were anchored in her spirit, they might always be there.

Besides, Deckard wasn’t shy about his stance on relationships. He flat-out didn’t do them. According to him, they were too complicated, and he humbly admitted he didn’t have what it took for one.

And she’d thought, given her work and her regular humanitarian trips, perhaps it was for the best, but after this last trip . . . she was never going back. She would never feel safe doing so again. She’d always believed God had her, and while He had provided the timing and means for her to escape, He’d also allowed her to be taken in the first place. She wouldn’t lie. What happened had shaken her faith. Was God really in control? What would have happened if she hadn’t escaped?

“You okay?” Deck asked.

She looked up to find him studying her. The sun breaking through the cloud cover silhouetted him in the late-morning light.

Wait. What had he asked, and where was her mind?

He tipped her chin up a gentle notch and lowered his face to hers. “You okay?”

“Yep.” She shook herself out of it, realizing they were still standing in front of the door, and people were heading for the house, carrying casseroles and trays laden with fruits and veggies.