Suspicion Of Guilt. Tracey V. Bateman

and heard it all, definitely presented its challenges. With the exception of Rissa, all of the girls attended services only as part of their requirement for living at Mahoney House. Rissa had found a true commitment to Christ last year.

      Working to place children in foster homes for the past ten years, Denni had met caring families who provided loving, nurturing environments. The kids in those homes were the lucky ones. The children she was most concerned about were the others: the leftovers whose foster parents cashed the checks and spent them on their own pleasure, without providing properly for the children they had agreed to take in, the kids who fell through the cracks when they turned eighteen and the government stopped paying for their upkeep, at least as foster children. Many grew to adulthood and ended up in the welfare system, continuing a cycle of poverty and neglect.

      Denni knew she couldn’t fix the whole problem, but for five girls she was making a difference. At least she believed she was. Each was either in college or, in the case of Cate, taking online courses. Each had a part-time job as well and a mountain of hope for the future.

      If she could pull off the luncheon Monday afternoon, perhaps there would be room for twenty more girls. Two houses, larger than the four-bedroom Victorian home she currently owned, each providing a home for ten, plus a house mother of sorts. Denni would then serve as a paid coordinator for all the houses.

      She wanted it so badly she could taste it. Like a craving for milk chocolate or veal parmesan with sauce and gooey mozzarella cheese. It just had to be God’s will.

      “So, the girls…”

      Detective Corrigan’s voice brought her back to the moment. The proverbial fly in the ointment. This guy’s suspicions could blow everything sky-high. She had to find a way to convince him to point his investigation away from the girls.

      Denni watched him as his gaze perused the five eight-by-ten photographs arranged on the mantel above the stone fireplace.

      “What about the girls?” Defenses raised, Denni narrowed her gaze and geared up for a fight.

      “They all look so innocent. You’d never know from these pictures that one of them could be responsible for the mishaps around here.”

      “They look innocent because they are innocent.”

      “We’ll see.”

      “I don’t understand why you’re so sure one of my girls is responsible for these things, Reece. Again, what would they possibly have to gain?”

      He lifted his eyebrow and she felt herself blush. “Detective Corrigan, I mean.”

      “Hey, don’t worry about it. Reece is fine.” He gave her a shiny, white-toothed grin. “And I’m not so sure it’s one of them. Just checking out all of the possibilities. Denni.”

      She smiled back, trying to calm her racing pulse. “First-name basis, eh? Doesn’t that seem a little friendly considering our positions? I shouldn’t have initiated it.”

      “Maybe I like friendly.” His eyes captured hers and held. Denni couldn’t breathe. With every fiber of her being she wanted to believe that Reece truly found her appealing. But just as quickly, reason struck a dissonant chord and her chest tightened. He hadn’t shown the slightest interest in her over the course of the three-month investigation, so why now? All of a sudden he was softening his stance about the girls. Pretending he wasn’t so sure it was one of them when he’d never even considered anyone else before today.

      She folded her arms. “All right, Corrigan. Just what are you trying to pull here?”

      Reece couldn’t help but grin at Denni, face twisted into a fierce scowl and her feet planted on the floor as though she were digging in for the fight of her life.

      “I’m not trying to pull anything. Can’t a guy think you’re cute and want to get to know you better?” He gave her another smile and watched her closely, looking for a crack in her armor.

      She sniffed. “Oh, sure. You think I’m a real cutie, don’t you?” She shoved her hands onto her nicely rounded hips. “I’m exactly the same as I have been since you started slithering around here and you never looked twice before. As a matter of fact, I’ve recently put on about ten stress pounds. Real attractive, huh?”

      Actually, it was. It gave her a softer, curvier look that kept him fighting to keep his eyes focused above her neck. This time he lost the battle and gave her a once-over. Three months of weekly or more visits had taken its toll on his reserve. Denni Mahoney was definitely under his skin.

      She frowned and sent him a dismissive wave before he could voice his opinion. “It doesn’t matter. I know what you’re up to. Trying to get in on my good graces so that you have better access to the girls. Well, just forget it. And you know what? You can just leave.” She pointed to the door.

      Okay, so maybe he should have eased into the new strategy. Although, he did still have an ace in the hole. “I’m not going anywhere just yet.”

      “You are if I say so.”

      “I came here to pump out your basement, and I don’t plan to leave until I do it.”

      “Because I’m so attractive you mean? You just can’t help but be my knight in shining armor?”

      Before he could answer, two of Denni’s girls entered the room. Searching his memory, he drummed up their names. The tall one he knew was Shelley Bartlett, a brunette with wire-framed glasses and a minor slump in her shoulders that he imagined was due to her height. She stared at him then moved on, her expression softening as her gaze rested on Denni.

      “Hey, Denni.” Rissa Kelley practically bounced into the room. Plump and rosy-cheeked, she had a quick smile and a touch of a Southern drawl that was obviously put-on since he knew she’d lived her entire life in central Missouri. “Cate said we’re ready to start cleaning up the basement.”

      “Just about.” Denni looked past the girls toward the door. “Didn’t Cate come back with you?”

      “She started feeling a little dizzy,” Leigh said, entering the room like a black cloud. Reece tensed. Was she going to explode into a vicious downpour? “I told her to stay in bed. She shouldn’t be doing this kind of work, anyway.”

      Denni nodded. “Agreed. I’ll check on her in a little while.” She turned to Reece. “Are you ready to get started?”

      “Isn’t there one more of you?” Reece asked, determined not to be completely left out.

      Leigh rolled her eyes. “How observant, Detective.”

      Oh, boy, would he like to slap the cuffs on that one and toss her into a cell. He’d lay odds she was behind this whole thing. Only, Denni had brought up a good point earlier. What was her motive? But he dismissed the thought. Not everyone needed a motive to try to harm the very people doing their best to help. Jonathon had been proof of that, hadn’t he?

      No one had seen the trouble beneath Jonathon’s wall of pretense until the damage was done. And this Leigh Sommers had all the earmarks of making another Jonathon—a chip on her shoulder the size of Mount Rushmore, the black leather jacket, and an unconventional style that shouted rebellion. Oh, yeah. Leigh was trouble. Big trouble with a sweet smile beneath that street-smart exterior. She had the sort of smile that made a person want to give her the benefit of the doubt, encourage her to make good grades and earn her degree so she could rise above her upbringing.

      But he knew better, and he would not be fooled again. “Forget it, Corrigan. I’m not interested in a bald, aging cop.” Leigh’s accusing tone shocked him to the present. He caught her glare and threw it right back.

      “Believe me, trouble-making, body-pierced teens aren’t exactly my type.”

      A deep blush appeared instantly on her cheeks. “I’m twenty-one,” she muttered without making eye contact.

      Feeling sufficiently back in control, Reece turned to Denni. “I asked about the other girl.”