by Eve Gaddy
“I know. But if you need to talk . . . if I can help, you know where to find me.”
“I have to go,” was all he could manage.
A SHORT WHILE LATER, Will stalked into Fielder’s office. Fielder had just returned from a call and was hanging his hat on the rack as Will entered. His face must have given him away, because the sheriff said sharply, “What have you got?”
He tossed the bag containing the ring down on his desk. “New evidence.”
Fielder took his seat, picked up the bag and looked at it a moment before reaching into his chest pocket for his glasses. Slipping them on, he brought the bag closer and studied it silently. “It’s a high school senior ring.” His gaze lifted to Will’s. “From Uncertain High.”
“That’s right.” He would keep his voice calm, level, no matter what it cost him. He was a professional, and he had a job to do.
“Where did you find it?”
“Tessa Lang found it at the murder site. Almost exactly where she found Frannie’s remains, she said.” He didn’t add that Fielder’s men had missed it. What was the point?
An expression of chagrin crossed his face, but he only said, “Fingerprints?”
“It needs to go to the lab, but fingerprints aren’t likely after this amount of time and given the composition of the object. Tessa didn’t touch it, except with tongs.”
Studying the ring, still encased in clear plastic, Fielder said, “Looks like writing inside the band. I can’t quite make it out . . . J—“ He broke off and laid it down, then fixed Will with a hard stare. “My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be, but those initials sure look like a J and an L to me.”
“They are,” Will confirmed, his voice hard, void of emotion. “And it’s not standard engraving.”
“Well, well,” Fielder said musingly, leaning back in his chair. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
Nothing he wanted to talk about, but he knew he had to. Besides, Fielder would find out easily enough. “It’s a squared-off J and the L has a serif on top, so they look like mirror images of each other.” He paused and added deliberately, “Just like the initials on Jed Louis’s stationery.”
Fielder simply nodded, clasped his hands together across his belly. “Do you want to call the D.A. or should I?”
“What, no discussion?” Will paced a few steps, attempting to control his temper. “No I-told-you-so?”
“What’s to discuss? And why should I tell you something you know as well as I do? You’re not stupid,” he said, gesturing at the plastic bag. “You know what this means.”
Fielder looked pleased, but then why wouldn’t he be? The ring went a long way toward proving his theory. “There could be an innocent explanation for why that ring was found in the same place Frannie’s remains were. With the mess the site was in, we can’t even be sure when it was put there. It could have been dropped—hell, even planted—at a later date.”
“Could have been, but you don’t believe that,” Fielder said shrewdly. “That’s a mighty far reach, McClain. Are you trying to say you don’t believe we have enough evidence to charge Louis now? That this—” he held up the evidence bag “—this ring isn’t a solid piece of evidence to present to the D.A.?”
How could he answer that, except with the truth? “No, I’m not arguing that,” he said harshly. “Call the D.A.”
Fielder’s bushy gray eyebrows lifted as he stared at him. “I have to say, McClain, you’ve surprised me.”
Will shrugged that off. “This evidence isn’t rock solid, you realize. His lawyer will likely shoot all sorts of holes in our case.” And with good reason, he thought. But would it be enough to get Jed off?
“Maybe not rock solid,” Fielder said, “but pretty damn strong.”
Will slapped his palms down on the desk, standing nearly nose to nose with Fielder. “That ring is compelling evidence and has to be taken into account. But if you think any evidence, other than a full confession from Jed himself, is going to make me believe he deliberately murdered Frannie Granger, then think again.” He straightened, hanging on to his temper by his fingertips.
“Understood and noted,” Fielder said. “I don’t impress easy, McClain, but you’ve impressed me. I figured you’d do whatever it took to protect Louis, feeling as you do.”
“I’m here to find Frannie’s killer, whoever it is. If that’s Jed, and I don’t believe it is, then he’ll pay for his crime.”
Fielder pursed his lips, nodded. “Do you want me to bring him in?”
“No. I have to do it.” Bad as it would be, Jed would do better if Will brought him in rather than Fielder.
Staring at Will, the sheriff shook his head. “You’re not the punk I always thought you were. And you got a respect for the law, and your job. You might not realize it, but I got a respect for that law myself.”
He didn’t give a damn about Fielder’s respect, he wanted to prove Jed innocent. “I haven’t given up on finding the real killer. And I won’t, until I’m satisfied we have him in custody.”
Fielder nodded again, placed the call to the D.A. A short time later, he hung up. “The D.A. agrees we should be able to prosecute with the new evidence. Judge Rimmer will issue a warrant for the arrest of Jed Louis in the murder of Frannie Granger. Are you willing to make the collar?”
“Yes,” Will said, wondering how the hell he’d managed to get into the position of having to arrest his foster brother for the murder of their foster mother.
Better him than Fielder, he told himself. It was the least he could do for Jed, even though he’d rather get caught in crossfire during a drug raid. Jed wasn’t going to be happy to see him this time.
And no matter how it turned out, even if Will cleared Jed by bringing in the real killer, he knew Jed might never forgive him for what he was bound to see as betrayal. Hell, Will couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t sure he could forgive himself. Assuming Jed was innocent.
He had no choice. He’d taken an oath, sworn to uphold the law. He had a duty, and a promise to the woman who had saved his life. Those two things took precedence over anything else. Even a brother.
Chapter Nine
WILL REACHED BEAUMARAIS about six-thirty that evening. Still full daylight, it was hotter than Hades, and would stay that way until long after the sun went down. As always, June, Jed’s housekeeper, answered the door. For a change, she looked pleased to see him. Jed had told him last time he was there that she’d decided Will wasn’t so bad after all.
She’d change that opinion quick enough when he arrested her employer.
“I’ll wait in the parlor,” Will said. Why arrest him in the library and ruin Jed’s favorite room for him?
June seemed surprised but left him there and went to get her employers. A few minutes later Jed entered, with Gwyn following. Gwyn smiled at him warmly. She wore a pale blue summer dress that emphasized the blue of her eyes. A pretty, classy lady, he thought, who seemed to suit Jed very well. Not for the first time since having met Gwyn, he wondered what it would be like to have a woman so solidly behind him. To have a woman believe in him like that. “How are you, Will?” Jed asked. “And what are you doing in the parlor? I can’t imagine why June put you in here.” They shook hands, and Will was struck by how happy he looked. Jed had Beaumarais, a career he excelled at, a beautiful wife who obviously loved him and who he just as plainly loved. And now Will was about to bring it all crashing down around him.
“Never mind,” Jed continued. “Gwyn, why don’t you tell June to set another place for dinner before she goes home?”
“Of course,” Gwyn said, but she looked sharply at Will. “Can you stay for dinner, Will?”
“No.” The word shot out, abrupt and stark. “This isn’t a social call.” No sense dragging it out. In the long run that would only make it harder.
Jed’s eyes s
earched his face. “I see,” he said slowly. “What’s this about?”
“I have to take you in. To the station.”
“For questioning, you mean,” Jed said. His expression changed. Became shuttered. “No. Been there, done that, and I don’t intend to do it again. I’ve already answered all the questions I’m going to. As I told Fielder, check the notes.”
“Not just for questioning. I’m sorry, Jed.” He drew in a breath and said it, quickly, to get it over with. “A warrant has been issued for your arrest in the murder of Frances Granger.”
Jed’s eyes went blank with shock. Then he gathered himself together and spoke. “You’re sorry? You’re arresting me, booking me for murder, and all you can say is you’re sorry?” His blue eyes had darkened with fury, carefully controlled.
“I don’t have a choice.” Will glanced at Gwyn, who’d gone sheet-white and clung tightly to Jed’s hand. “It was me or Fielder. I thought it would be easier for you if I did it.” Jed didn’t speak, he just stared at Will in a way that made him feel lower than a snake’s belly. “Goddamn it, Jed, do you think I’m enjoying this? Do you think I’d be here if there was any way out of it?”
“I don’t have a clue, Will. I thought I knew you, but obviously I was wrong.”
“What brought this about?” Gwyn asked, speaking for the first time since Will had dropped his bombshell. “Why are you arresting him now? What’s happened?”
“New evidence. That’s all I can tell you. Call his lawyer,” he said, his gaze meeting Gwyn’s. “Tell him to meet us at the station.”
He saw the moment the reality hit her. With a choked sound, she turned into Jed, burying her face in his shoulder. His arm came around her protectively, and he looked down at her. For a moment, tenderness softened his face, displacing the anger.
“Don’t worry,” Jed murmured. “We’ll get through this, Gwyn.”
“I know,” she whispered, her hand coming up to clutch his shirt. “I know we will.”
Gwyn was one tough lady, Will thought, watching her straighten and turn her head to fix him with a cold-eyed stare. Good, he had a feeling she’d need to be.
“I hope you can live with yourself after this,” she said. “I’m going to call our lawyer. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t take my husband away before I return.”
Will nodded, saying nothing. But Jed’s angry voice exploded into the silence. “I have one question for you,” he said. “If you have the guts to answer it honestly.”
“Ask it. But you shouldn’t talk to me, or to Fielder without your lawyer present.” And thank God, he had a good one.
Jed brushed the warning aside. “I’m fully aware of that. I still want an answer. Do you really believe I killed Frannie? Is that why you’re here, arresting me in my own home?”
“What I believe doesn’t matter. The evidence matters.”
“Answer me, Will. Do you believe I killed Frannie? That I killed her and buried her on Beaumarais, then did nothing while social services took Emmy and you skipped town for good? Do you think I’m capable of killing her, my foster mother, and hiding the fact for nearly twenty years? Of just going about my business, as if nothing had ever happened?”
Gwyn returned and went swiftly to Jed’s side. They stood together now, facing him as if he were the worst piece of pond scum they’d ever seen. And that’s exactly what he felt like.
“Nothing would make me believe you killed Frannie deliberately,” he said, echoing his earlier words to Fielder.
“Not deliberately,” Jed repeated, emphasizing the last word. “Well, there’s my answer.” His voice turned cold as ice, and his gaze was hard enough to slice a man to the bone. “So how did I do it? In a fit of anger? Did I choke her? Hit her with a rock? Shoot her? Stab her? Beat her? Tell me, Will, how did I do it?”
“Goddamn it, I didn’t say you killed her.”
“No?” Jed laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “Yet you’re arresting me for murder. I’d say that gives a damn clear view of your opinion, Ranger McClain.”
Will read him his rights. And died inside with every word.
THE DIGITAL CLOCK on Tessa’s bedside table glowed pale green in the darkness. 1:17 a.m. Three minutes later than the last time she’d checked it. Two hours of tossing and turning, and she was no closer to sleep than she had been to begin with. Face it, she told herself, sitting up and flicking on the light, you’re not going to sleep until you hear from Will. She rose and grabbed her pale yellow cotton robe from the end of the bed. Why she was so certain he’d call her, she didn’t know. But she was.
She didn’t know enough about the law to know if he would have arrested Jed. Was the ring enough evidence to charge him with the murder? She didn’t have a clue. But if Will had arrested Jed . . . that’s where her imagination broke down. She’d heard the affection in his voice when he’d spoken of his foster brother that day on the lake. He obviously cared about the man.
In search of a sleeping aid, Tessa walked through the living room to the kitchen. Pepe, the cat, blinked at her as she passed and lashed his tail, but didn’t offer to get up. He had appropriated the easy chair in the living room for his bed and looked too comfortable to move. After a struggle that she hadn’t been too sure she’d win, Tessa had convinced Goofy to sleep on a pallet in the kitchen. She could hear him in there now, woofing in his sleep.
The animals had been a little wary of each other at first, and then Goofy had tried to make friends. Pepe had put the dog in his place with a swipe across his nose that drew blood. Even though he outweighed the cat by a factor of ten, Goofy knew when he’d met his match. Since then Goofy had kept his distance from the cat and lavished his attention on his new mistress. Regardless of his name, Goofy was pretty bright about who to bother and who to leave alone.
And thank goodness her landlady hadn’t laid eyes on the dog yet.
Just about to put some water on for tea, Tessa heard a knock on her front door. Her heart leaped and she hurried to open it, not even questioning who it was. Will. She felt it, with an awareness that sizzled through her bloodstream.
He stood in her doorway wearing jeans and a white button-down shirt, one hand propped against the doorjamb. He didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. She looked into his eyes and saw the despair that raged inside him. Wordlessly she opened her arms and he stepped inside, pulling her into his embrace and kicking the door shut behind him. For a long moment, for an eon, they simply stood there, holding each other. Tension, anger, utter sadness—he radiated all those emotions and more.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her arms tight around him, knowing it was inadequate but not knowing what else to say. “It’s going to be all right.”
He pulled back and stared down at her, grasping her upper arms. “No.” He shook his head slowly. “No, it’s not. I arrested my foster brother tonight. I can’t change that, or fix it, either.”
Reaching up, she pushed his hair back from his forehead, then pressed her palm against his cheek. She wanted to lay his head against her breast and soothe him, comfort him. Wanted, so much, to ease his pain. She’d never felt that way before, and didn’t know what to do with the rush of emotion bombarding her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
His arms encircled her, pulling her tightly against him. She felt his cheek come to rest against her hair. His breath sighed over her head, ruffling her hair. “No. I want to forget it. For a little while, I just want to forget.”
Ordinarily she’d never have been so bold. But this wasn’t an ordinary situation, and he wasn’t an ordinary man.
And she wanted him. Why deny it when she wanted to be with him more than anything? So she stepped back and took his hand. Led him to her bedroom. Sat him on the bed and stood in front of him. She started to reach over to flick off the light on the bedside table, but he caught her hand and carried it to his lips.
“Leave it,” he murmured against her palm.
Slowly, a little hesitantly, she untied the sash of her robe, slipped it from her shoulders to pool at her feet. She wore a white cotton floor-length gown with a tiny row of buttons marching down the bodice. No femme fatale, she thought, wishing she had worn something at least a little bit sexy. But this was the real Tessa, and it seemed important that he know that.
He didn’t say anything more, beyond the murmured injunction to leave the light on. Didn’t reach for her, though he kept hold of her hand. He just sat on the side of her bed and stared at her, his expression impossible to read. Finally he touched her cheek, rubbed a thumb over her mouth. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sure.” Sudden doubts swept her and she added, “If you’re sure you . . . want me.”
He smiled, the smile that never failed to set her insides to jumping. “I want you, Tessa. That’s never been in question.”
Funny how liberating those simple words were. She smiled and stepped forward, between his legs, shivering with anticipation as her legs brushed against the denim covering them. His hands reached up and he began undoing the row of tiny buttons, not stopping until he released the last one. Holding her gaze, he spread the bodice and slipped his hands inside. He stroked, caressed, palmed her nipples, which had already hardened and strained against those deliciously rough palms.
“Tell me something,” he said, his voice low, seductive. A midnight tide in the still of the night.
Anything, she thought, her eyes closing, as long as he didn’t stop touching her. “What?”
“Are you a virgin?” Her eyes snapped open and she stared at him. His hands never stopped their motion, but his intense gaze settled on her face.
“I’m twenty-nine years old. What do you think?”
“That’s not an answer,” he said, and moved one hand to her waist to pull her forward. He pulled her head down and kissed her, a long, slow, drugging kiss that implied he had all the time in the world and intended to savor every moment. He murmured against her mouth, “Are you?”