скачать книгу бесплатно
“Debra and Mary Sue. And Sheryl,” Laurel supplied.
“Not Sheryl. I haven’t seen her in years.”
“Who else?” Cade asked.
She closed her eyes again. “Ann Noble. And Ralph Langston. He’s funding the whole shebang.”
The curtain around the emergency room cubicle fluttered and a nurse stuck her head in. “Ms. Waller, Dr. Cook wants a CT scan of your head, just to be sure you’re okay.” She stepped over to the gurney and patted one of the pillows. “And he wants you to stay overnight, so we can watch you.”
Misty’s calm evaporated and her eyes grew wide and panicky. “No, I can’t stay here. Please. Where’s the doctor—”
“I’ll stay with you,” Laurel said. “Don’t worry.”
“The technician will be here in a few minutes to take you to the lab,” the nurse said, then left.
“Oh, Laurel, thank you. But I’m more worried about Harriet. She’ll be so scared in that house alone.”
“Harriet?”
“Harriet Potter. My kitten. She was Harry until I realized she was a girl.”
“Don’t worry,” Laurel said. “I’ll take care of her.” As she leaned over and kissed Misty on the forehead, Cade’s gaze zeroed in on her curvy backside. Her jacket rode up and he saw the tip of the leather paddle holster at the small of her back.
Something went haywire inside him at the sight of her weapon. He suddenly had to hold his breath and avert his gaze. He shifted his stance to try and hide an embarrassing truth. The sight of Laurel’s Glock holstered at the small of her back was a huge turn-on. Which surprised the hell out of him. He’d never thought of a woman with a gun as sexy before. In fact, he’d always thought those women-in-black-kicking-butt TV shows were a little silly. Maybe he’d have to give them another chance.
Laurel patted Misty’s hair and straightened. Misty gave her a tiny smile and her eyes grew damp at the corners. “Thank you. It’s so good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too.”
Cade felt like a fifth wheel. He wasn’t much for tearful reunions or sappy reminiscences. He was a lot more comfortable behind his badge.
He cleared his throat. “We’d better go, Agent Gillespie.” Laurel’s head snapped up and her hazel eyes sparked.
She got his message.
“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” she said to Misty. “I’m sure by then they’ll be ready to let you go home.”
She stood just as Mary Sue Nelson breezed in, carrying a funeral-size vase of flowers.
“Misty, darling! What in the world happened? Did you fall down the steps or something?”
“Hi, Mary Sue. Somebody attacked me,” Misty said groggily.
Mary Sue looked at her quizzically before she turned toward Cade.
“Hello, Cade. What are you doing here? Was she really attacked? Who could have done that?” She giggled.
Cade had to make himself relax his jaw. “Hi, Mary Sue.” He could see it now. The scene at Misty’s house was nothing. By the time Misty was admitted there would be a constant stream of concerned neighbors parading in and out of her hospital room. It was the small-town way.
“I tell you what,” he said. “They’re coming to get Misty for a CT scan in a couple of minutes. Why don’t we all get out of here and let her rest for a while?”
“Cade Dupree, you may be police chief, but my mom babysat you when you were in diapers. So watch who you’re giving orders to.” Mary Sue batted her eyelashes at him and laid her fingers on his arm.
Laurel met his gaze, her eyes sparkling dangerously.
Uh oh.
“Here, Mary Sue,” Laurel said. “Let me put that glorious bouquet over here. Where in the world did you get that at this time of night? Now you can have both hands free to talk to Cade.” She took the vase from Mary Sue’s hands. “There. I could hardly see you behind all the flowers.”
“Do I know you?”
“I’m Laurel Gillespie.”
Mary Sue didn’t even acknowledge her. She turned back to Cade. “Who do you think attacked Misty? Was it a gang?”
The nurse returned with an aide who unlocked the gurney’s wheels and began to maneuver it toward the door.
“You should all go home now. Once they’ve done her CT scan, they’ll put her in a room overnight.” She eyed each one of them in turn. “Visiting hours start at 9:00 a.m.”
Mary Sue waggled her fingers at Misty, then turned to Cade. “My husband’s out of town. I’m not sure it’s safe for me to be home alone.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. If you’re worried, you could go across the street to your mother’s,” Cade replied.
He felt Laurel’s eyes boring into his back and he knew he was in for it. Sure enough, as soon as Mary Sue left, Laurel placed her hand on his arm.
“Why Mister Dupree,” she drawled. “Are you certain it’s safe for me out there alone?”
He should have been irritated, should have shrugged off her hand as soon as she touched him. But her fingers on his forearm felt so different from Mary Sue’s. Mary Sue’s touch had been clingy, needy. Laurel’s was firm and enticing.
He cleared his throat and pulled his arm away. “Knock it off, Special Agent Gillespie.”
“I got your point the first time,” she whispered. “This isn’t old home-week. I’m a professional, Chief Dupree. I know we’re investigating a crime.”
“We?” No way. She was a witness, but that was all. He held the curtain for her to exit the cubicle ahead of him and didn’t say anything more until they reached the parking lot.
Laurel turned to him as they approached his pickup. “Tell me about Ralph Langston. How is he funding the whole reunion?”
“He moved back here about a year ago,” Cade said. “He bought all that land down by the creek, and broke ground for a state-of-the-art convention complex.”
“So Ralph made it big?”
“Yes, he owns the fifth largest web-hosting company on the Internet. And he developed Webelot, the Web page building software.”
“Wow.”
“He’s hosting the reunion at the Visitor Center, and he’s footing the bill.”
“Visitor Center?”
“Right. On the rise above the creek bank, where the old high school burned.”
She looked at him, her expression thoughtful. “I want to go down there.”
“What for? You’ll see it tomorrow night. That’s where the party’s going to be.”
“Not the Visitor Center. The creek bank. Where Wendell died.”
He opened the passenger door of his pickup, but as she started to get in, he stopped her with a touch on her elbow. “This is not your case. It’s mine. You’re on vacation. Remember?”
Laurel stiffened and lifted her chin until her nose was only a few inches from his. “I found Misty. I know what her attacker was looking for. I just gave you a roomful of suspects. Of course it’s my case, too.”
“You’re a witness. Nothing more.”
“You could request the help of the FBI.”
“I don’t think so. All we have here is a home invasion and assault. Nothing the FBI deals with.”
She closed the distance between them by an inch. “What we have here is an unsolved mystery. I work in the Unsolved Mysteries Division of the FBI.”
“There is absolutely no evidence that Wendell Vance’s death was anything more than a suicide.”
“Yes, there is—somewhere. Whoever attacked Misty was after her pictures. That’s obvious. They were trying to destroy evidence. But I intend to find it first.” Her chin went a bit higher, and he could feel her warm breath on his lips.
His whole body went on red alert. Danger!
Gardenias. Warm, sweet breath. A cute little nose and now that he was close enough to see them—freckles.
His thighs tightened. Heat spread through his groin and radiated outward. In a few seconds he was going to have a huge hard-on. What the hell kind of Police Chief got hot and bothered by a witness?
A sarcastic voice in his head answered him. A horny one.
“Nope. I’m involved,” Laurel continued. “You said it yourself, Dupree. I inserted myself into this case.”
“Yeah,” he heard the strain in his voice. “You sure did.” He took a step backward, out of harm’s way—for the moment. He knew she was right. He was going to have to work with her. But this crazy physical attraction had to stop.
It must be because he hadn’t had sex in such a long time. Man, he didn’t even want to think about how long it had been.
His body chose that instant to remind him just how deprived it was feeling. He took another step backward and pretended he couldn’t still smell gardenias or see her freckles.
When she sat, her skirt rode up to her thighs. Despite his irrational anger, his mouth went dry and his libido spiraled out of control. He slammed the door with a vengeance it didn’t deserve and stalked around to the driver’s side.
When he got in, Laurel grabbed his arm. “Cade, I just remembered something.”
He wished she’d quit touching him, and while she was at it, quit wafting that gardenia perfume his way. Everything about her was playing havoc with his good sense. He looked down at her hand then up at her. “Yeah?”
“Ralph Langston got the ten-thousand-dollar scholarship after Wendell died.”
Chapter Three
Later that evening, when Cade came out of the shower, his phone was ringing. A glance at the caller ID told him it was his dad. He picked up the handset.
“Dad, I was going to call you in the morning. What are you doing up at this hour?”
“I wanted to check on you. Gotta keep up with the only son I’ve got left.”
Cade rubbed his chest. The pain was old and familiar, but still sharp. Only son I have left. That’s how his dad always referred to him. As if he was nothing but James’s leftovers.
His brother, James Dupree Senior’s first-born, had died five years before. The same week his dad had suffered a stroke that had left him with a mild speech impediment. Every time Cade talked to him, he was reminded of both.
“We had a breaking-and-entering at Misty Waller’s house.”
“I heard. Misty okay?”
“She’s got a knot on her head, but she’s fine.” Cade paused, glancing at the clock. “Dad, feel like talking for a minute?”
“It’s why I called.”
“What do you remember about Wendell Vance’s death?” Cade paced as he talked.
“Vance? Oh. Kid that hanged himself on his graduation night?”
“Right.” His dad might have trouble speaking, but there was nothing wrong with his brain.
“Ever’thin’s in the file, I reckon.”
“Did you ever think it was murder?”
“Murder? Maybe for a minute. Remember what I tol’ you? Always consider every possibility. But the boy was taking pills for depression. It’s all in the file.”
“What did you think about Ralph Langston?”
“Who?”
“He was in the same class. Apparently he got a ten-thousand-dollar scholarship that would have gone to Wendell.”
“Don’ remember that. I musta talked to him. Everybody was all shook up. I gotta say though, the boy did a good job of killin’ himself—”
“Good job? What do you mean?” Cade pushed his fingers through his damp hair, raining cool drops of water onto his shoulders and back.
“He tied that rope that hangs from the Swinging Oak ’round his neck. Broke his hyoid bone and crushed his larynx. Quickes’ way. Beats choking slow.”
“Hyoid bone.” Cade thought back to his forensics training from Quantico. “That doesn’t usually happen in a hanging, does it?”
“Nah. Only thing I could figure was maybe that disk an’ chain got caught in the rope.”
“Disk? Oh—the Science Medal. He was still wearing it when he hanged himself?” The metal disk could have gotten caught between the rope and Wendell’s throat, crushing the bone.
“That was strange, too,” his dad continued. “Never did find that medal. Just a coupla links of chain. If I didn’ know better, I’d say somebody took it.”
