His radio crackled. The dispatcher's voice came over the line. He answered her brief call about a habitual teen drunk—probably harsher than he should have. The dispatcher didn’t say anything—she was used to his shit.
He cursed the bureaucrats in Finley Creek when it occurred to him that his dispatcher most likely wouldn’t keep her position. Not with the solution to the problem he’d been stupid enough to bring to their attention.
There was no way in hell he wanted to combine his post with that of Garrity. He’d had no contact with that post in the six months he’d been in charge of Hamer. That they’d be able to cover more ground didn’t matter one bit. He wasn’t about to work as co-sheriff. He’d never heard of the idea. He’d mentioned that to his supervisor out of Finley Creek. Elliot Marshall hadn’t been amused.
He’d told Murdoch the other option on the table was that it went to the sheriff with the best record with the TSP. He’d implied that wouldn’t be Murdoch. From what he'd heard, the new Garrity sheriff was a connection of both the Texas governor and Marshall himself.
Nepotism really pissed him off.
It spoke of the police corruption that the TSP had been battling for years. Combine that with the fact that he was being forced to drive through Value and Barrattville, and he was more than a little pissy.
He was letting loose another round of his favorite curses when he saw it.
Murdoch slammed on his brakes, sending the SUV into a swerve. He corrected automatically, swearing even more when he saw the sirens on the roof of the overturned TSP vehicle.
Margo threw his SUV into park and climbed out quickly. He yelled that he was with the TSP. Then he waited to listen if someone yelled back.
He heard a faint call coming from the driver side. Murdoch was already halfway down the embankment. The patrol vehicle was on its side, keeping the driver hanging almost upside down. Murdoch recognized the other man from what had happened with his brother Cam back in April. Besides, Sheriff Addy had a reputation in this part of Texas. “Addy, how bad are you hurt?”
The man a few years older than Murdoch let loose a string of curses that Murdoch admired, and would make a point to remember. But Addy was moving around freely.
"My seatbelt’s jammed, and I can't reach my knife.” Murdoch handed over his own without a word, then assisted Addy in climbing through the open window.
Then he took a good look at the man his brother Cam considered a friend. He was about Murdoch's height and weight. No wonder it had been difficult for the man to get out of the overturned vehicle. They weren’t exactly small men. There was a bloody gash over the other man’s forehead.
Guy could keel over at any moment.
"My Chevy Tahoe is ready. We’re not that far from Barratt County General. Let's get you there, and we can figure out what the hell happened. Sheriff Murdoch Lake, by the way. Out of Hamer. Cam Lake’s my older brother.”
“Can’t say it’s nice to meet you. Not under these circumstances.”
It wasn’t his full jurisdiction, but the TSP was different that way. TSP had base jurisdiction all over the state, much like the Rangers. Besides that—the TSP helped its own. “Understood.”
Murdoch listened as the man called in the accident and gave a bulletin for a nineties brown Chrysler van, driven by an older white male. Addy was just itching to find the guy responsible, no doubt.
Murdoch understood.
Chapter 63
Clay was cursing himself most of the way to Barratt County General. The headlights of the vehicle behind him had registered, but Clay hadn’t paid much attention.
He’d been lost in his head, going over his last conversation with Bailey. He suspected she was on to something with the prostitution angle. He was thinking of how to prove it when the older Chrysler had clipped his rear panel. If it hadn’t been such an old tank the man had been driving, Clay wouldn’t have had a problem. But that Chrysler had been the size of a small barge.
Not many of them were on the road any more.
He’d find the man eventually. The guy was on the hook for the damage to Clay’s patrol vehicle, at the least. And any medical bills he was about to get slapped with.
For a moment, he’d half thought the man who’d driven past and left him there had been Lou Moore. The resemblance was that strong.
But it was most likely because Clay’s mind had been on Bailey at the time.
Lou wouldn’t be stupid enough to still be hanging around. He had to know Clay was looking for him. The entire TSP and half the FBI posted in Texas were still looking for Lou Moore and Charlie Lake.
That wasn’t going to stop until they found them.
Murdoch Lake was a real piece of work. He looked like his older brother without any of Cam’s annoying constant good humor. He didn’t say much as they waited for responders to arrive. Clay knew the drill.
As soon as Barrattville City Police arrived on scene, he took Lake up on his offer of a ride to Barratt County Gen.
He half thought the other man was looking for an excuse to get out of Value.
Whatever. It was Lake’s business, not his.
Clay was just grateful for the ride.
***
Barratt County General had actually been started by Clay’s great-great-grandfather back in the early 1900s. It had started as a two-floor, eight-room structure, where his ancestor had built before he’d carried off a redheaded neighbor to be his bride.
That woman had had nursing skills already and had caught the original Tucker Barratt’s attention pretty quick. Clay had always smirked at the story.
When he’d been about twelve and first noticing how nicely girls filled out their T-shirts, he’d imagined being a Barratt from times past. When getting the girl you wanted seemed a hell of a lot easier. Just scoop her up and carry her home. She’d fall in love with a Barratt man. It was almost a given.
He’d been smart enough not to try that in reality, though.
A portrait of his ancestors hung in the lobby of the hospital. As it did in the Finley Creek General lobby. After establishing the Barratt County Hospital, his ancestor had moved one county over to provide the same kind of services in the far more rapidly growing Finley Creek.
He couldn’t step foot inside one of those hospitals without a small rush of pride in what his mother’s family had accomplished.
His father’s family hadn’t managed much of anything. Clay had been living that down since he was ten. Maybe if just with himself. Hardly anyone in Value even mentioned his father anymore. Clay liked it that way.
He was given priority treatment in the ER, with Dr. Alvaro seeing to him himself. But it was close to ten thirty when Clay was finally free to leave him.
The doctor just nodded when Clay thanked him. “Stay out of trouble. I always hate billing the county when one of your guys comes in. How’s Deputy Moore?”
“She’s fine. Why?”
“I got the impression the wreck that night was the first she’d seen anything like that before. It can stay with a person.”
The doctor’s eyes told Clay that it wasn’t the first time Dr. Alvaro had seen far too much of that before. “Bailey’s going to be ok. She’s stronger than she looks.”
Alvaro jerked his head in a half nod. “I’m sure she is. Hold still.”
Clay sat impatiently while the physician sewed up the knock on his head.
Chapter 64
Veri took the call twenty minutes before her shift was supposed to end. Normally, she didn’t work this late, but she was filling in for the younger dispatcher. No surprise, it was her job. But this call had her hands shaking when she was finished. The post was practically deserted—Jeremy and Jeff were out at a ranch on the north corner of the property dealing with a domestic. She didn’t know where the rest of the deputies on shift were—except for one.
Bailey was in the back room, her files spread out before her and that brain of hers going ninety miles an hour. She should have gone home instead of coming in tonight. Th
e girl had beaten Veri in by several hours, then spent at least six hours driving on the road between Value and Garrity.
Veri hated to disturb her, but someone had to get him. Stay with him.
Make certain Clay was ok and did what he was told. That boy had always been stubborn when he was hurt.
And when he wasn’t, for that matter.
It couldn’t be her and he wouldn’t like it if it was. But...Bailey. Bailey could get him and take care of him exactly the way he needed it.
She’d long that Bailey and Clay were two halves of the same whole. Everyone else saw it. Except those two. Stubborn. They were extremely stubborn.
Their kids would be as well. But Veri could handle that. She was all ready to play Grandma. Bailey’s mama would have wanted that.
“Bailey!”
Bailey came practically running. Veri took a critical eye at her. Bailey was starting to lose even more weight. There were circles under the girl’s eyes.
Veri mentally cursed herself for not noticing sooner. She’d seen far too many cops through the years who’d push themselves well past their limits. Who put their job ahead of everything else. Until they burned out and fizzled completely.
That wasn’t going to happen with her Bailey. As soon as she got Bailey out there to pick up Clay, Veri was going to suck it up and call the people who should be taking better care of Bailey.
Bert was about to get an earful.
But first... “Clay’s been in a traffic accident. You need to get to Barratt County General and pick him up.”
Bailey paled even more than she normally was. No wonder, after what she and Clay had seen last week on the road. Veri hurt for her baby girl. There was still an innocence about Bailey that she hoped remained for a good long while. But this job...this job would erase that innocence far too fast. It had Veri’s all those years ago. And she had just been the dispatcher.
“How badly was he hurt?”
“Enough to make him madder than an old sidewinder. He was cursing on the phone and wanting me to send his clean shirt and pants with whoever picks him up. That’s going to be you.” Veri shot her a level look. She’d kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Get Clay home where he could rest—and get Bailey the break the girl so obviously needed. At least for a day or so. “Take him home. Sit on him if you have to. See he takes care of himself.”
And you, baby girl. And you.
Chapter 65
The hospital wasn't very big—nothing in Barratt County was very big, except for the Barratt Ranch near the northern boundary of the county—and she had an easy time finding where they had him.
He was arguing with the head of the hospital, Dr. Alvaro. She always had to give that man a second look to make certain he wasn’t Dr. Holden-Deane, the surgeon at Finley Creek General that had saved her life. The two were identical twins, despite the different last names. She’d confirmed it with Dr. Holden-Deane’s wife, Jillian—one of Kevin Beck’s daughters—after the MVA they’d all worked together.
Just to make certain she wasn’t seeing things, or anything like that. Not that she was, but after seeing Zoey Daviess, too...well, it was obvious they were all related. Lucky, to have a family so close.
"I'm here to get you." She looked away from the sheriff and at the doctor. On a closer look, he didn’t look exactly like his brother. He was broader, more muscled—which was a feat in itself—and the hair was a lot longer. There was a scar bisecting one eyebrow. It actually fell beneath his eye about half an inch. He’d come extremely close to losing that eye, no doubt.
He wore a gold-hoop earring in one ear and had a massive dragon tattoo up one arm. He looked too bad to be a doctor. He had a sort of bad-boy pirate appeal that would draw women like flies.
"Sheriff, I'll release you now that you have a ride, I assume?" The guy practically growled it. Bailey kept her surprise hidden. Not many good guys challenged Clay Addy to his face like that. And it was good to see the Clay get challenged now and then. Not many people ever did that.
She certainly hadn't. Before. What had happened with her father had changed that. "I left my car running. We should be going."
"I don't need a ride. I need my truck. I told Veri that." He shot a look at Bailey. She studied him quickly. The cut over his eye stood out. Blood stains covered his shoulders. His dress shirt was ripped over his left shoulder. And he was hurting. She didn’t have to see the expression in his eyes to know that. “Have Jeremy and Jeff stop off at my place and get it.”
"No. You're not driving," the doctor said, looking at Bailey with intent. She nodded quickly. "You argue, and I'll have you admitted for that knock on the head. Deputy Moore, you understand? Who is his next of kin, if needed?"
"I'm not sure. But Sheriff Addy understands how to be reasonable, don't you?" Bailey wasn’t about to give him his way. Clay driving himself anywhere now was stupid. Dangerous. To him and everyone else who hit the roadways in the rain. It just wasn't going to happen. "I'd hate to have to arrest him for reckless endangerment, considering he's my boss. But I'll do it, if I have to."
The sheriff glared at her. "Bailey...I’m fine.”
"I think your deputy is an intelligent woman. You should listen to her." Dr. Alvaro handed her an old-fashioned paper prescription. "Our online system is down, thanks to the storm. But the pharmacy up the road is open for a few more hours. See that he takes two soon, and another two in four hours. It should help with the inflammation. Other than that, he's all yours."
Bailey took it then looked at the sheriff as Dr. Alvaro left the exam room. "My truck's running, Clay. Let’s go.”
"You should be at the precinct, going over those reports from Garrity. Or at home—sleeping.”
"I’m good. I’ll sleep later. It’s you Veri is worried about.”
"Nice to see you care, Moore."
He really was surly. Surlier than usual. No doubt he was hurting. She took a quick look at the bandage over his left eye. Compassion had her softening. "Come on, Clay. Don’t be stubborn. Let someone help you for a change. It doesn’t mean you’re weak. It just means you need help sometimes.”
***
His head was aching and like it or not, he was having trouble thinking. Focusing.
He looked at his chauffeur. Bailey still wore her green deputy's uniform. It fit her a bit looser than it used to—even since her return. The hair had been brushed and pulled into a shiny ponytail, but it was drooping after her long day. With the blue eyes and petite build, she looked like a kid playing dress-up.
He closed his eyes as she walked closer.
"You're not driving tonight."
She had never directly ordered him to do anything—or defied him on anything. He wasn't certain he liked it.
This was Bailey, after all. Sweet, beautiful, wanting to get his approval. The woman in front of him looked irritated, frustrated, and elusive. Standing toe-to-toe with him. He wanted to just stand there and stare at her.
"Fine. You are." She had to drive back to Value, anyway. He might as well catch a ride back.
"Good. Because Veri had a tow truck come get your Tahoe. It's a crime scene, now, remember?" She smiled at him, but it wasn't a Bailey kind of smile. He held out a hand and beckoned him on. “Come on. Let’s get moving.”
Clay followed along behind her, far more docilely than he probably should have.
Hell, it didn't surprise him.
All she had to do was tell him what she wanted him to do, and he'd jump to it. The only thing it would cost her would be a smile.
***
He tried not to watch her. Something about her manner told him she wasn't in much of a mood to talk. They hadn’t said much to each other since he’d carried her to the couch early that morning. At least twenty hours ago.
She should be at home, relaxing. Having a life.
Unlike him.
Clay would not let this job destroy Bailey.
He watched her, though. Out of the corner of his eye.
He wanted to
see her smile again.
But at the moment, Clay wanted his head to stop hurting. He should have taken Alvaro up on the offer of a shot of pain killer. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the seat.
When he next opened his eyes, Bailey was shaking him gently. "Come on. It's time to go inside. We're here."
He looked through the window at the house he'd lived in for the last six years, since he'd taken the job as sheriff. It was a good-sized, midcentury house. Big enough for the last sheriff to raise a family of six kids in it. He still hadn't repainted half the bedrooms upstairs. He really saw no need for it. He used the parts of the house he needed and dusted the rest once a month or so. That was just about it. No need to paint over dinosaurs and unicorns just yet.
For the first time, he wondered what Bailey would think of it. Clay wasn’t much of a decorator. His place was comfortable for him; not for a woman like Bailey.
And that was ridiculous. What did it matter what she thought about where he lived? Not a damned thing.
He grunted at her. She just shook her head and mumbled something under her breath that he didn't catch.
Then she was out of the vehicle and rounding the hood. Before he could react, she'd jerked open his door and wrapped one of those small hands that tormented him around his free arm. She pulled lightly. "Come on. The rain's broken a bit. Let's get inside."
"You going to put me to bed?" He’d let her. Just pull her right in the bed with him. But he sure as hell didn’t feel like doing much more than sleeping at that moment. That was ok, though. He’d wrap around her and just hold her until morning.
He’d never wanted anything more in his life.
"Hardly. But I'm going to stay with you. Veri told me to. Consider this my penance for some unnamed sin. "
Chapter 66
Holding the Truth Page 17