“No explanation?” she repeated, a little breathlessly.
“None,” he confirmed. “And then at my honor ceremony I received a job offer from your brother Brendan on behalf of Madam Secretary.”
“What?” Surprised, she withdrew her hand from his. “You met Brendan?”
“Yes.” He swallowed a bite of his steak. “You really have to laugh at how our government works. Brendan approaching me. Hinting at a job. Awaiting a call from Madam Secretary herself. All very clandestine, and as I said to my father, total bullsh?” He caught himself and flashed a smile. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. So, the job offer. Police Chief of Laguna Beach, I presume.”
“Correct.” He waved a hand toward the HK416. “Madam Secretary caught wind of something happening and sent me out here to be her eyes and ears.”
Brielle shook her head. “Forgive me, Justice, but that doesn’t make any sense. I mean, I’m sure you’re very good at what you do…”
“Did,” he interrupted. “I was very good at what I did. I’m learning how to be a cop by the seat of my pants. But you’re right. It doesn’t make any sense, and the more I think about it the more I suspect Secretary Washburn wanted me focused on something other than the Navy.”
“Because she’s hiding the truth about what happened in Afghanistan.”
“That’s what I figure.”
“My brother probably knows, too.”
“That would be my guess.” He saw the determined look in her eyes and wagged a finger at her. “Oh, no you don’t, Sergeant. Stay out of it, please.”
She shrugged, which he accepted as her acquiescence.
When they finished eating, Brielle offered dessert. “Peach cobbler,” she enticed him.
“My favorite.” He grinned at her. If she’d said she was serving tar, it wouldn’t have mattered. She’d already ensnared him.
He was staring out to sea when she returned to the deck with two heaping bowls of warm peach cobbler topped with scoops of vanilla ice cream. Turning toward her, he smiled and accepted the dessert.
Justice shoved a spoonful into his mouth and groaned. “You baked this? It’s the best peach cobbler I’ve ever eaten.”
Brielle emitted a hearty guffaw. “Sorry, Justice, but I can’t take credit for it. I hate cooking and baking. My mom made this. She freezes her cobblers and cookies and pies and sends them to me. It’s an old joke in my family that she snagged my dad with one of her peach cobblers.”
You didn’t need a peach cobbler to snag me, he thought. “That sounds like a story,” he commented.
“Oh, it is,” she replied, and launched into her parents’ love story.
“Wow. What an incredible tale,” he remarked when she’d finished recounting it.
“How did your parents meet?” she asked, taking a bite of vanilla ice cream.
It lingered on her lips, and he wanted to lick it off. Swallowing heavily, he responded, “My parents’ courtship and marriage were all very ordinary. They met in high school. Got engaged before my dad shipped out on his first tour of duty. Had me a couple of years after they were married.” He smiled a moment before his eyes filled with sadness. “I lost my mom to cancer five years ago.”
She touched his arm, briefly this time, he noticed. “You’ve been through a lot. Again, I’m so sorry for you and your dad.”
“He’s never gotten over it. I wanted him to stay here with me, but he left this morning.”
Brielle didn’t know what to say, so she offered him a cup of coffee. They drank the brew and watched the sun sink low in the sky, painting the horizon with glorious shades of pink and yellow. When darkness fell, Justice announced his leave.
“I have an idea, Brielle. Let’s work on this mystery together. Why don’t I pick you up in the morning around nine? We have a brand-new state-of-the-art forensic lab I’d love to show you.”
Her face brightened with interest. “I’d like that.”
“Breakfast at Pop’s Diner?” he suggested.
She wrinkled her pert nose. “No, thanks.”
