by Eve Gaddy
“I’m sure I’m incredibly appealing right now,” she said, conscious of mud trickling down her face and back.
“More than you know.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond but said, “Tie him up out here for a minute. I’ll go get you some clothes and then I’ll hose him down while you’re in the shower.”
“Absolutely not. You shower first. It’s only fair since you’re the one who saved him.”
He looked unconvinced, but she finally persuaded him.
“He’ll have to stay out here until he dries off,” Will said as he started to go inside. “Mrs. Whitney would have a stroke if I let a wet dog in the place.”
Cleaning up the mutt took longer than she’d expected. The hose scared him and he kept shying away and shaking water all over her, but finally she had him about as clean as she could hope for.
He looked like a cross between a shepherd and she didn’t know what. Maybe a Great Dane, but whatever it was, he hadn’t exactly gotten the best of both breeds. His medium-length fur was an uninspiring dingy brown and beige, and a black circle ringed one eye. Added to that, his paws were about four sizes bigger than the rest of him, indicating he had some growing to do. No American beauty, this dog.
“You are a goofus,” she told the dog severely as she tied a dry rope, which Will had given her, securely around a post on the porch. Unchastened, he gave a woof and wagged his tail, whacking it against the wood column. Startled, he turned around, as if wondering what could have made the noise. Goofy, she thought, naming him. It fit him to a tee.
She entered through the kitchen and saw Will on the phone, buttoning his shirt as he talked. Spying her, he gestured toward the hallway. The bathroom opened off the hall. Small and tidy, it made her wonder if Will was that neat or if there was a daily maid service at the cottages.
Noticing he’d laid out a pair of wind shorts and a shirt for her, she turned on the taps and stepped into the shower gratefully. She lathered her hair lavishly, rinsed it and sighed with pleasure as the warm water flowed over her. Rubbing a bar of soap slowly over her body, she thought about what Will had said at lunch. He hadn’t stopped thinking of her. He wanted to be with her. How was she supposed to hold out against that? Especially when it was spoken in that deep, seductive voice, as though the two of them had been the only people in the universe.
And really, she asked herself, why was she fighting him so hard? A gorgeous, sexy man wanted to take her to bed. She understood as well as he did that theirs wouldn’t be a lasting affair. But why not enjoy it while she could? Enjoy him while she could?
Why not be the new Tessa Lang that Ellen insisted she could be, instead of the insecure and yes, boring woman who rarely dated and would never have imagined in a zillion years going out with someone like Will McClain. She shivered, even underneath the warm water. A man who knew what a woman wanted and had no problem giving it to her.
She still hadn’t talked herself into it by the time she finished showering. But she was awfully close to crumbling. The shirt he’d loaned her was a button-down powder-blue, like the one he’d been wearing the first time she saw him. She tried on the wind shorts, but couldn’t keep them up. If he had a safety pin, or some kind of belt, they might stay up.
Tessa wandered into the living room, leaving her wet clothes in the tub until she figured out what to do with them. “Will? Do you have a sack for those clothes? Or a clothes dryer? And I need a safety pin.”
He stood with his back to her. “The washer and dryer are in the hall, but I don’t have a . . .” He turned around and broke off in mid-sentence, staring at her. His gaze stroked her from the tips of her very bare toes to the top of her wet slicked-back hair. “Sorry. What did you say?”
She held up the shorts he’d given her. “I need a safety pin. The shorts are too big and I don’t think I’d better drive home like this.”
“No, I don’t think you’d better.” His eyes lit with an appreciative glow. “You’d cause a riot if you had to get out of the car.”
She laughed. “I doubt it. I must look like I’m twelve.”
“No.” Not taking his eyes off her, he shook his head. “Trust me on this. You don’t look twelve. If you did, I’d have to throw myself in jail for thinking what I’m thinking.”
“What are you thinking, Will?” she asked, hardly daring to breathe. She crossed the room, halting a few inches in front of him.
“Can I ask you a question?”
She nodded silently.
“Are you wearing anything underneath that shirt?”
Chapter Eight
“NOT A THING,” Tessa said, and smiled. Her heart pounded until she could hardly breathe. She took another step forward, wondering where this sudden courage had come from.
Will closed his eyes. “Damn, I was afraid of that.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No.” He opened his eyes and his gaze swept over her body in a long, hot journey. “It’s a dream come true. The problem is, I have to leave.”
Which is probably a good thing, she told herself. You’re not sure you want to do this. Then she looked at him, felt the heat of his gaze and amended that thought. Oh, yes, she wanted him. She just wasn’t sure having him was wise. But instead of saying something sensible, she asked, “Right this minute?”
His jaw tightened. “Soon. Too soon to be able to do what I really want to do with you.”
Something about wearing a man’s shirt with absolutely nothing on beneath it, and having that same man stare at her as if he wanted to start at her toes and devour her whole, gave her courage. She tossed the shorts onto the couch and laid her hand on his chest, palm flat against his heart. It beat fast, erratic, keeping time with hers. “We could be quick.” She could hardly believe she’d said that, but when she opened her mouth that’s what had come out.
His mouth lifted in a devastating smile, eyes a hypnotic green. He shook his head slowly. “No, we couldn’t. Not the first time. We’re going to need a long time. All night.”
Her stomach fluttered, her skin tingled. She stayed silent, certain she’d stutter if she tried to speak.
He gathered her to him, chest to chest, staring down at her intently. There wasn’t a speck of gray in his eyes; they were forest-green, kindling with what even she recognized as desire. “Kiss me goodbye.” His voice was deep, dark and quiet, sending shivers of anticipation up and down her spine. “It’s probably a mistake, but to hell with it. I’m not leaving without tasting you again.”
He crushed his mouth to hers in a kiss that had all the blood draining from her head and every nerve in her body aching for more. His arms tightened around her, his tongue slid inside her mouth, slow, wicked, knowing. She clung to his shoulders, certain his arms were the only solid thing that could anchor her suddenly shifting world.
When her heart pounded like a pneumatic drill, and every coherent thought had fled her mind, he released her. “Tonight,” he said, and walked out.
RESIGNED TO OWNING yet another stray, Tessa decided to drop Goofy off at the vet on her way to Beaumarais. Her house had a fenced yard, but Mrs. Brindle, her landlady, hadn’t been thrilled about a cat. Tessa would have to do some fast talking to get her to consent to a dog.
She glanced at him, stretched out in the back seat of her little car, covering the area from port to starboard. Did he have to be so big? Oh well, she thought, if she was lucky Mrs. Brindle would never set eyes on him.
Forty-five minutes later, alone at the dig site, she set to work quickly, aware she’d wasted a good deal of time. Though she could hardly call what had happened between her and Will a waste of time. Whenever she thought about that parting kiss she became hot and shaky all over again. It shot her concentration to hell and back.
In the distance, she heard the sounds of her crew, working at the Caddo burial mound. Although they were too far away
to see exactly what they were doing, she did see signs of activity. Surprisingly, it hadn’t bothered her as much as she’d imagined to be forced to turn that dig over to someone else while she worked at the murder site. She was involved in this murder, by virtue of finding the victim’s remains. That tied her to it in a way she couldn’t deny.
She’d decided to work alone at the murder site, at least at first. Since she had told Will she wouldn’t use students, it left her a bit shorthanded, because she felt she needed the more experienced people at the Caddo mound. If she ran into trouble, though, she could always pull someone from the other site to help her.
Tessa had decided to begin with the actual place she’d found the remains rather than the mound of dirt tossed up beside it. On her knees on the ground, she brushed dirt onto the tray, then sifted through it to see if anything of interest showed up. When nothing did, she placed the screened dirt in a large bucket, to be dumped into a wheelbarrow later. Then she repeated the process, one tray at a time. Monotonous work, but a find would make it all worthwhile.
She thought about teaching her classes, and realized that she hadn’t found her job monotonous at all. Not even grading papers. And her students were a joy, or most of them were. Bright, eager to learn, some of them hung on her words as if she were giving them the keys to the universe. It was an exhilarating experience after being virtually ignored at some of the bigger digs she’d taken part in. Before she took the job with the college, she’d never have imagined that she’d enjoy her time in the classroom so much.
Bending to gather dirt for the seventh tray, she saw something glinting in the sunlight. A small object lay half-buried, in almost the exact spot where she’d found Frannie Granger’s remains weeks before. Cautiously she swept the soil away with her brush. Careful not to add her fingerprints to any that might be on the object, she scooped it up with her diamond-shaped trowel and inspected it.
A ring. Taking tongs to it, she turned it to catch the light and peered more closely. Bright gold, with a garnet stone gleaming blood red in the center. An Uncertain High School ring, she thought, her heart beginning to beat unsteadily. She shifted the ring to look inside and saw that the initials had been inscribed. J.L.
J.L. She closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath. Jed Louis. Will’s foster brother.
Oh, God, she thought, her stomach plunging as she opened her eyes and stared once more at the damning evidence. Evidence she would have to turn over to the police. What would Will do?
WILL HAD AN OFFICE of sorts now. A small room at the Sheriff’s Department with a desk, a hard wooden chair with a gimpy leg and a phone. No window and barely enough room to turn around, but he didn’t much care. He’d worked in worse.
Phone receiver against his ear, he tapped his pen impatiently on the desk. On hold for the Marshall, Texas, Police Department, he’d spent the past twenty minutes listening to canned announcements, interspersed with something he supposed was music. He should have gone over there himself, but he’d hoped for once he could accomplish something over the phone instead of having to drive halfway to hell and back.
Finally his contact came back on the line. “I found the records you requested, Ranger McClain. Sorry it took so long. I had a little trouble locating them. A Hank Belmonte, I believe you said?”
“That’s right. Belmonte.” He spelled it out and the clerk reconfirmed. This was Will’s only lead, other than Jed. The only remotely suspicious person he’d found who’d been in Uncertain at the time of Frannie’s disappearance. Hank Belmonte was a drifter who’d taken handyman jobs in the area. Frannie had hired him to convert her porch into a bedroom for Will shortly before she disappeared. And then the man had vanished—the same day as Frannie. Will hadn’t found any evidence that Belmonte had ever returned, either.
A few days before, Will had interviewed Joleen Berber, Frannie’s good friend. She’d told him Frannie had been ready to fire the man for drinking on the job. So Will had traced Belmonte’s whereabouts, which was why he’d called the Marshall police. Reports indicated the man was last seen in a bar in Marshall, the evening before Frannie disappeared.
“Yes,” the officer said. “Hank Belmonte was in custody from 2:17 a.m. the morning of May 4 until late the following afternoon.”
Will managed not to curse in her ear. Scratch one promising suspect. The jerk had been in the drunk tank the entire time in question. Talk about a great alibi. Will thanked the officer and hung up.
Dead ends, damn it. He rubbed his temples and wished for an aspirin. Nothing but stinking dead ends. He intended to check with Frannie’s employers again, though Fielder maintained it was a waste of time, pointing to his notes from years before. None of her employers had shed any light on her disappearance. In fact, if Will read the reports correctly, Ray Jennings, the banker Frannie had worked for, had been mad as hell he’d even been questioned. Will smiled, thinking he’d enjoy questioning Mr. High-and-Mighty Jennings again. It ought to really tick him off to have the riffraff who’d once dated his daughter on the sly question him about a murder.
Will had tried investigating Fielder, as well, without tipping him off. It hadn’t been easy, and so far he’d had zero luck in either verifying the sheriff’s whereabouts at the time in question or assigning him a motive for killing Frannie.
Disgusted, Will began to pace the tiny office. Yeah, that was the kicker. Why would Fielder have killed Frannie? Other than the fact he was so determined to pin the crime on Jed, Will wouldn’t have given a thought to suspecting him. Still, in Will’s professional judgment, Fielder seemed just a little too obsessed with charging Jed Louis with the crime, especially given the circumstantial nature of the evidence.
He sat again, bending over the desk to study the copies of Fielder’s files, leafing through them slowly until he came to Amanda Jennings’s statement. The morning after Frannie’s disappearance, Will, Jed and Emmy had gone to school as usual. Amanda had overheard Jed and Will discussing the previous day’s argument. That dovetailed nicely with the information Fielder had managed to drag from Emmy and Will. Will remembered that interview well, because directly after it, he’d left town. One good thing—Amanda wasn’t likely to mind discussing the situation with Will all over again. Though Will doubted her memory of the events would be particularly good, it was worth a shot.
The call came in as he was headed out the door for Amanda’s house. “McClain.”
“Will, it’s Tessa.”
Checking his pocket for his Ranger identification, he stopped. Her voice sounded odd. Tight and upset. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m—I’m at the site. I found something, Will.”
“Hot damn. Finally, a break.”
There was a strained silence before she said, “I don’t think it’s the break you wanted.”
Shit. He didn’t ask what she’d found. He’d know soon enough. “On my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
THE MINUTE HE HEARD her voice on the phone, he knew it was bad. One look at her face told him it was worse. She waited for him, standing beside one of those huge mounds of dirt the sheriff’s men had so carelessly made.
“I called you as soon as I found it,” Tessa said, handing him a clear plastic bag with a small object inside. “Luckily, I had my cell phone with me so I didn’t have to leave the site.”
He looked at the bag, turned it over to get a better view. It held a ring. A high school ring with some kind of dark red stone. He smoothed his hand over the plastic. A garnet. He read the lettering around the stone with a sense of unreality. Uncertain High School, dated Jed’s senior year. The year Frannie died. “Did you touch it?”
“No. I used tongs. I found it where Frannie’s remains were. Almost exactly at the spot.” She gestured toward the ground beside them. “In the original excavation I made a grid showing where that is. I don’t know how the sheriff’s men missed it, or how it managed to es
cape being thrown out with the rest of the dirt. It’s small, so I guess it slipped through their tools.”
His stomach twisting, Will stared at the evidence, then looked at Tessa. “Any distinguishing marks?”
She nodded, her gaze solemn on his. “It’s engraved. With . . .” She hesitated, glanced away, then met his eyes. “Will, the initials inscribed inside the band are J.L.”
He’d known it, of course. The minute he’d recognized it as an Uncertain High School Senior ring, he’d known. Still he said, “That doesn’t necessarily mean . . .” Breaking off, he looked at the engraving for himself. Pulled the plastic tight so he could see inside the thick gold band. A squared off J, a serif on the L. The letters looked like mirror images of each other. The same image Jed used on his letterhead.
There could be an innocent reason why the ring had been there. They couldn’t even guarantee it had been left there at the same time as Frannie’s body. But with this evidence, Fielder would be on the phone to the D.A. quicker than a paid informant shot off his mouth. And Jed would be charged and arrested for Frannie’s murder.
“I need to take this with me,” he told Tessa after a long moment. “You may be—no, I’m sure you’ll be called in to testify about exactly where you found it. We’ll need to see the original grid you drew up, as well.”
“All right. Just let me know. Will, I wish . . .” Her voice trailed away. She laid her hand on his arm and squeezed sympathetically.
He couldn’t stand her compassion right then, couldn’t deal with it, or with what was happening. “You’ll call if you find anything else,” he said, cutting off whatever else she might have added.
“Of course, although I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here today. Will—” her fingers tightened on his arm, “—I’m so sorry. I know how this must hurt you.”
He met her gaze, seeing her blue eyes dark with pity, concern. “I’m not hurt. I don’t know what I am.” Numb, that’s how he felt. Not hurt, or shocked, just numb. He needed to think. Alone. He brushed her hand off and looked away. “I can’t talk about this.” His throat closed up. He wanted to put his fist through something, but nothing was going to help clean up this mess.