Deadly Texas Summer

by Colleen Thompson

  “What brings you all the way out here, Deputy?” she asked as River returned to stand in front of her. “Somebody report a rabid skunk that needed shooting?”

  He shook his head, a smile ghosting over his thin lips. “No, ma’am. But the sheriff’s asked that I deliver something.”

  “Beau’s not here at the moment,” she said, “so if there’s an olive branch in your trunk...”

  Kendall seemed to choke on air. “An olive branch...from Wallace...” He gave his head a shake, his short silver hair unmoving. “No, ma’am. This delivery’s for you alone. Is there someplace—some private place inside where I can give it to you?”

  She narrowed her eyes, regarding the tall, powerfully built man. An armed man who could either invent some reason to arrest her or snap her in two without trying. Though he’d seemed professional enough during their past dealings and even human, almost laughing at her lame joke, she couldn’t forget who Kendall worked for, or stop herself from imagining how upset his boss must have been when he had somehow figured out where she was staying.

  “Here would be just fine.” Swatting at a troublesome mosquito, she spotted a pair of groundskeepers working near one of the fountains. Having witnesses around was good.

  A look of concern softened Kendall’s steely gaze. “You aren’t—you aren’t feeling nervous, are you, Dr. Copley? Because if you’re uncomfortable here for any reason, I’m happy to wait for you to gather your things and give you a ride back into town.”

  “No, it isn’t that,” said Emma. “Everyone’s been kind. Beau’s aunt, Mrs. Parker, is so gracious, and those boys are sweet as can be.” She smiled at the thought of the offerings they’d brought her, so achingly innocent that she yearned to get the chance to know the children better, though part of her already knew it was a bad idea to encourage any attachment.

  “What about with him? Do you feel safe with Mr. Kingston?”

  “Of course, and anyway, he’s not here now. And I’m not a prisoner,” she insisted. “You tell your boss that, will you?”

  “I’ll be sure and let him know you said so.” The deputy went around to the trunk, which he opened to retrieve a small insulated case.

  “What’s this?” she asked as he handed it over to her.

  “The handgun you had with you when you were bitten.”

  She peeked inside the zippered case before looking up. “I thought I had to go back to the office to pick this up. Sign some paperwork and—”

  “Sheriff wanted to be sure you had this with you, since you’ve made the choice to stay here.” Kendall schooled his voice to the same careful neutrality as his face.

  “He did, did he?” she asked, the fine hairs behind her neck rising as she noticed that the gray eyes did not quite meet her gaze.

  “And he asked me to remind you that in this state, a woman’s got the right to defend herself against a threat. Any threat of mortal danger...whether it’s from a snake in the grass or the kind that goes around masquerading as a pillar of this community.”

  The words hung between them, heavy as the heated air. Or maybe that was fury, burning through Emma as it hit her what this man was saying.

  “Are you—are you honestly suggesting,” she asked, balling her fists until her nails dug into her palms, “that I shoot your boss’s rival? So that’s why Fleming didn’t come himself. He’s using you. Don’t you see that? Giving himself a layer of plausible deniability if something happens to his cousin. Only I’m sure the sheriff will disavow all knowledge when the Texas Rangers come to question him about this—”

  “No!” Kendall’s denial was a short, sharp sound that had River giving a single, protective woof and plunking herself down directly in front of her mistress. Ignoring the dog, he continued, “You misunderstand me. I never meant to imply that you should shoot anybody—”

  “Have you met his little sons? You know they’ve lost their mom, right? You should see him with them, the only parent they have left.”

  “—only that you should protect yourself from danger, in any form it comes in.” Kendall’s face had drained of color, and he looked around nervously, as if he feared someone listening.

  “What about the form of my ex-husband? Are any of you in that office as worried about the man I have to keep reminding you has threatened me on multiple occasions and was arrested for assaulting me?” Her stomach flipped at the thought of the incident in her dean’s office, with its devastating fallout. “Do you even have any idea where Jeremy is now?”

  “We—we have someone following up on that,” Kendall sputtered. “I—I believe the sheriff did reach out again to Mr. Hansen’s former employer—”

  “Former? Then he really was fired?”

  “The uncle did confirm that they agreed to part ways, but as for your ex-husband’s current location, we’re working with the Waco PD to see if they can bring him in for questioning.”

  “In Waco?” she asked. “But I told you days ago that Jeremy was on his way here—if he’s not here already. I told the sheriff the same thing, too, if only his tunnel vision allowed him to focus on anybody but the man he’d evidently give me a medal for knocking off.”

  Kendall huffed out an exasperated sigh. “You’re being obstinate. And hostile. The sheriff’s right about you.”

  “You misunderstand. I’m desperate for help in ending the threat to my life before whoever’s behind it is successful. And to get real answers about what happened to my student.” Though she hoped that Beau’s PI friend would soon successfully track down Jeremy, she needed law enforcement if she wanted him questioned—or held accountable for anything he may have done.

  Not murder. Please, not that, she prayed, hoping for the sake of the boy she’d fallen for so many years ago that he hadn’t gone so far.

  “We’re looking into all that. You just have to trust us.”

  “Trust you? After you show up here with that pistol and your broad hints about self-defense?”

  “You know what, woman?” Kendall said. “Give me back the damned gun. You’re right. There are forms you have to sign before I can let you have custody of this weapon again. Forms it seems I’ve forgotten to bring out here with me. So let me take the thing back, along with your ridiculous and totally unfounded misinterpretations.”

  “Fine,” she said, thrusting the case back at him. And relieved beyond measure to have its weight lifted from her.

  “I only hope you don’t come to regret this,” Deputy Kendall told her as he dropped it back into his trunk and slammed the lid down with enough force to make her flinch. “Because if you happen to need help, all the way out here, if could be a while arriving.”

  When his cold gaze locked with hers, it sent a chill clean through her. The implied threat made her worried that the landscapers had disappeared. But relief came in the low rumble of an approaching vehicle. Though still in the distance, her heart leaped to see that it was Beau coming home.

  Holding back River by the collar to keep the wagging, wriggling dog from running out to greet him, Emma returned her attention to the deputy. “The only thing I’m regretting,” she told Kendall, “is having ever set foot is a county ruled by some ridiculous family feud instead of law and order.”

  “It’s a hell of a long way from ridiculous when you’re talking about a legacy like this one,” Kendall fired back, gesturing toward the mansion. “A fortune in assets, built on the backs of generations, only to be stolen by a man everybody in this county knows is nothing but a two-bit bastard. You only have to open your eyes to see the rumor’s true—his mama was keeping company with one of those hired Mexicans.”

  “Gee, I wonder who could be spreading that self-serving gossip.” She glared at the deputy. “And what Sheriff Fleming could’ve promised you to buy himself such a loyal lap dog.”

  Chapter 11

  “What was all that about?” Beau asked, watching the recedin
g cloud of dust raised by the patrol vehicle as it headed back out the dirt road. On seeing the black-and-white sheriff’s department markings, he’d mashed down the accelerator, itching to confront Wallace about what he’d learned from Ty.

  Instead of the sheriff, however, Beau recognized Deputy Jim Kendall behind the sedan’s wheel, but the man hadn’t made eye contact as the two had passed, though they’d gotten to know each other well last spring when Jim’s daughter played T-ball on Leland’s team. More distracting still was the sight of Emma, red-faced and unsteady on her crutches, her lips parted as she stared down at the dirt.

  “Everything okay here?” he asked. “You’re shaking. Are Aunt Alicia and the boys—”

  “They—they’re f-fine. I—I think they’re back at the pool playing.” Emma turned in that direction.

  Sure enough, Beau heard Maverick barking from back behind the privacy fencing that screened the area. A loud splash followed, and then the sounds of Cort’s and Leland’s laughter and his aunt shouting something. Probably her usual admonition to get that dirty dog out of the clean water.

  “Best place for man or beast on a day like this one.” Smiling at the thought, he grabbed his overnight bag from inside the truck’s cab. “One thing for sure, it’s too blasted hot to be standing out here. You look a little flushed yourself. Have you gotten yourself overheated or—The deputy didn’t bring you bad news, did he? Anything on your ex yet?”

  Though Ty had convinced a friend from the Texas Department of Public Safety there was sufficient reason to suspect that Jeremy might be behind the attacks against his former wife, the evidence was far too thin to get a warrant for cell phone and credit card information tracking. Instead, they’d have to rely on questioning his friends and former associates to narrow the search for a man who appeared to have deliberately dropped off the radar.

  Shaking her head, she glanced back in his direction long enough for him to notice the dampness at her hairline and the tracks of tears under her green eyes.

  “Are you—are you crying, Emma?” he asked as her dog nosed closer to her.

  “I do that sometimes, when I’m mad enough.” She gave her face a quick, defiant swipe, making him wish he’d tucked a handkerchief into the pocket of his pants.

  Shelving his plan to try to talk her into joining him on the lanai or perhaps to soak in the pool if her leg was ready for it, he asked, “Mad about what? Did the deputy say something to upset you? What’s happened?”

  “Actually, he called me a—a lying bitch, just before he stormed back to his car.”

  “Jim Kendall? Seriously?” It was hard for Beau to reconcile his memories of the dad who’d rooted for the kids, bandaged skinned knees and passed out juice boxes with what Emma was describing. “What happened?”

  “I provoked him, to be certain, calling him on what the sheriff put him up to,” she explained, trembling with emotion. “But there was no way—it was outrageous.”

  Wallace, again. Beau should’ve known that the SOB was at the root of whatever trouble had come calling in his absence. “Come inside and we’ll talk. I have just the place where we won’t be disturbed, and we’ll be comfortable in the AC.”

  Inside the shelter of thick white walls, it felt blessedly cool, with the tile and the trickling of the interior fountain adding to the relief. After dropping off his overnight bag beside the staircase where he could grab it later, Beau waited for Emma to catch up on her crutches before leading her down the hall to the den, the domain of so many past male Kingstons. Unlike the light, bright look that dominated the rest of the mansion, this retreat was paneled and furnished in dark, exotic woods. On one end, floor-to-ceiling bookcases formed the backdrop to a massive desk, while on the other, the mounted head of a massive black bull presided over a stone fireplace, several plush armchairs and a huge tooled-leather sofa.

  “You should dispense gas masks to female visitors to this room—” Emma put down her crutches and heeded his gesture, settling on the sofa’s edge while the dog lay on the thick rug at her feet “—to protect us from all the testosterone in the air.”

  Smiling, he pushed aside a letter tray stacked with papers before offering her a clean handkerchief from his desk drawer. “You should have seen it before I had the hunting trophies taken down and donated to a natural science museum. They loved their safaris, those old-time Kingstons. The ones packing a Y-chromosome anyway,” he added, recalling his aunt’s vocal disapproval of the practice.

  “You’re not like them?” Emma asked, dabbing at her eyes.

  It was a question he’d heard—all too often dripping with snide innuendo—all his life. But in her lovely face, he saw not a trace of judgment. Only curiosity, a need to understand.

  “When I was a boy,” he explained, rolling up the sleeves of his linen shirt, “I felt left out, like I’d missed a rite of passage because my father never took me, not even for deer or doves or wild hogs like most all the guys around here grow up shooting.” He remembered his brother and his older cousins, all laughing heartily over some incident or other that had gone down out at deer camp. Remembered aching for the day that he, too, would find his first .22 under the tree or—better yet—his dad would take the time to teach him how to use one of his many weapons. Or even have Fernando do it. That would’ve been all right, too—and for damned sure, less stressful. Beau hadn’t realized that it was never going to happen until the day that a younger male cousin was invited and he was left back home with Aunt Alicia once again.

  “But I had chance enough to work with guns after I enlisted,” he continued. “And more than enough opportunity to get acquainted with the horrendous damage they can do.”

  “Why join the military anyway? A guy from a family like yours, a place like this—I can only imagine the opportunities you must have had available.”

  It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked, especially since he hadn’t taken the route most privileged sons did and gone in as an officer after college, instead choosing to do the toughest basic training alongside recruits of every background. “First off, serving in our country’s armed forces is an opportunity, one I’ve never regretted for a single second.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as if I thought there was no value. My late dad served, too, as a young man, and he always swore it was the making of him.”

  “It’s fine.” Beau nodded his understanding. “The truth is, I had something to prove back then—that I didn’t need the Kingston name and money, or a damned thing from the father who never had much use for me, to make something of myself.”

  “Your father...” she echoed, a question in her eyes.

  Uncomfortable with the subject, he cleared his throat and offered her a choice of water, iced tea or mineral water. “Unless you’d prefer something harder.” Heaven only knew that he could use a stiff drink, if this conversation was going to move in that direction. “I know it’s a little early, but you look like a woman who might appreciate a beer on a hot afternoon. Or maybe a whiskey—and there’s a fully stocked bar hidden in that console, alongside the mini-fridge.”

  “I’d love that iced tea,” she said, “unsweetened if you have it, but go ahead and have that drink, if you’d like.”

  “Tea’s good for me, too,” he said, figuring he’d better keep his wits about him.

  “Great, and don’t worry about a glass. I’m more than happy with the bottle.”

  “You’ve got it.” He brought over two chilled bottles and sat down on the sofa, his knees slanting toward her. After passing her the first, he took a long pull from his own and waited for her to do the same before saying, “My father, yes... So I take it Wallace has made sure you’ve heard the rumors.”

  “Just when I start to think the man’s got an ounce of integrity—”

  “Up until yesterday afternoon, I liked to imagine he might. Or that he was at least trying to do what he thought his favor
ite uncle wanted—hell, what my father probably did want at one time, considering the way he treated me when I was younger.”

  She shook her head. “That sounds awful, Beau. I’m sorry. But I’m confused. What’s Wallace been up to, other than spreading ugly gossip?”

  “Lying,” Beau corrected, his confidence bolstered by Fernando’s furious defense of his mother’s honor, along with his own perusal of the photo of his great-grandfather. “But Wallace’s filed a lawsuit insinuating that I’ve committed fraud by passing myself off as a real Kingston.”

  Fury flashed in her eyes. “How could you have possibly—? That’s ridiculous.”

  “You’re right. It won’t hold water, legally, so now he’s suddenly come up with a mysterious second will naming him my dad’s sole heir—a will written during the years we were estranged.”

  “That sounds like a nightmare.”

  “It could be. Or worse. And there’s even more, I’m afraid.”

  She leaned toward him, her expression as intent as it was sympathetic. “As bad as all that sounds, I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  “I met up with Tyler, my ex-partner. He had some news we needed to talk about in person.”

  “About Jeremy?”

  “He’s still working on that,” Beau said. “But in the meantime, he’s found out something surprising about Wallace and his reelection campaign last fall.”

  She drew back. “What would Wallace’s election have to do with any of this?”

  “He seemed to have an unusual number of cash donations, all of them right at the legal limit, a lot of them from names I didn’t recognize. He also received several good-sized checks from what appears to be a shell corporation...only Ty’s traced its domain name to an employee of Green Horizons.”

  “Why wouldn’t they just donate openly to his reelection,” she said. “It’s not illegal, is it?”