Eight Classic Nora Roberts Romantic Suspense Novels

by Nora Roberts

  “I’m sure between you and Marvella everything’s going to be beautiful.”

  “I’d feel better if I could talk her into rose instead of russet.” She polished off the cupcake. “We’re going down to Jackson this weekend to shop. You’re welcome to come along if you’d like.”

  “I appreciate that. But I don’t have anything to shop for.”

  “When a woman needs an excuse to shop, she must have something on her mind.”

  Caroline licked some of the sticky white filling off her fingers. “I guess I do. I guess we all do.”

  “Burke’s hardly been home to do more than fall into bed for a couple of hours since Austin took off.” She tilted her head. “Honey, you’re not worried that he’s going to come back here and bother you?”

  “I don’t know.” Restless, Caroline rose. “I can’t quite dismiss it, though there isn’t a reasonable motive for him to do so.” She looked out the window, and her eyes were drawn to the line of trees, and the memory of what lay beyond them. “It’s more, Susie. I suppose it feels like everything else has been covered up by this search for Austin Hatinger. I can’t forget that just a couple of weeks ago I walked out there by the pond and found his daughter.”

  “Nobody’s forgotten about Edda Lou. Or Francie or Arnette either. It’s just if you think about it too much, you go crazy.” She lowered her voice. “That Agent Burns is talking to everyone in town. He interviewed Darleen just this morning. Happy told me about it. The thing that’s making it hard is he’s not working with Burke. He’s working around him. Doesn’t want the local law messing with his federal case, I suppose, but it’s a mistake. Burke knows these people, and they trust him. They don’t trust some shiny-shoed Yankee.”

  Caroline had to smile and look down at her own shoes. “Mine haven’t been polished in weeks.”

  “Oh, it’s different with you.” Susie waved Caroline’s northern connections aside. “Your kin was here. Of course, you could say that you and that Burns fellow speak the same language.”

  Caroline lifted a brow. “You could, but I don’t think it’s quite true.”

  “It seemed to me he had a lot of respect for you.”

  “For Caroline Waverly, musician. There’s a difference.” On a sigh, Caroline sat again. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re dancing around, Susie?”

  “It’s just that I was thinking, with you and Agent Burns in the same circles, so to speak, he might listen if you made a suggestion.”

  “What suggestion would that be?”

  “He can’t keep cutting Burke out like this,” Susie blurted out, and scowled down at the chocolate crumbs. “I’m not just speaking as Burke’s wife, because I love him and know this is eating at him. I’m speaking as a woman, as part of this community. Whoever killed those girls needs to be caught, and it’s going to be a whole lot harder without Burke smoothing the way with people, and getting them to open up.”

  “I agree with you, Susie. I do. But I really don’t see how I can help.”

  “I just thought you might find the opportunity to mention it. In passing.”

  “How’s this? If the opportunity presents itself, I’ll try.”

  “I guess he didn’t do anything for you,” Susie said. “Romantically speaking.”

  Caroline gave a quick laugh and shook her head. “No, he didn’t. And no man will again who thinks of my music first and me second.”

  “Oh. That sounds like a story.” All anticipation, Susie propped her chin on her hands.

  “Let’s just say I was involved with a man who thought of me more as an instrument than as a woman. Agent Burns looks at me the same way.”

  “Did you get your heart broken?”

  Caroline’s lips curved. “Cracked, a little.”

  “Well, the best way to shore it up again is a nice fling with an easy man.” She touched her tongue to her top lip. “I heard you went to the movies with Tucker the other night.”

  “Why am I surprised?”

  “Josie mentioned it to Earleen. I’d think Tucker Longstreet’d be a nice, painless cure for a broken heart.”

  “Cracked,” Caroline corrected her. “And we just went to the movies. That doesn’t constitute a fling.”

  “A man who brings a woman roses is laying the groundwork for one.” She grinned as Caroline shut her eyes. “He stopped by and took Marvella out for lunch while he was down in Rosedale picking them out.”

  “They were just a neighborly gesture.”

  “Uh-huh. Once Burke brought me a real neighborly bunch of violets. Nine months later we had Parker. Now, don’t get all flushed and bothered,” Susie said with a wave of her hand. “I’m just being nosy. And I thought if you had any … neighborly interest in Tucker, you might want to know that Agent Burns is asking a lot of questions about him.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “Questions that apply to Edda Lou.”

  “But …” Caroline felt her heart give one uncomfortable thud. “But I thought that he wasn’t a suspect because he was home the night she was killed.”

  “Maybe the FBI would like to find a way around that. Of course, he’s asking questions about a lot of people.” She looked deliberately toward the back door, and the porch beyond where Toby was humming “In the Garden.”

  “Susie.” Caroline bit her lip and lowered her voice. “That’s absurd.”

  “You may think so, and I might, knowing Toby and his Winnie all my life the way I have, but Agent Burns has different ideas.” She leaned closer. “He went by and talked to Nancy Koons. Wanted to know if Edda Lou and Tucker had had any fights there in the rooming house. If he’d shown her any violence. And he asked her about Toby, too.”

  “What did she tell him?”

  “Next to nothing, because she didn’t like the way he asked.” Susie drew lines in the moisture of her glass. “That’s why he needs to bring Burke in. Burke knows how to approach people. They’ll talk to him. I have to figure he’ll be out this way again soon, since you were the one who found the body.”

  “There’s nothing I can tell him.”

  “Honey, seems to me he might be interested in the fact that Tucker’s coming around here.”

  Caroline rubbed at an ache centered in her forehead. “My personal life is none of his business. That I will tell him.”

  Long after Susie left, Caroline worried over every point of the conversation. She listened to Toby and his son pack up for the day and worried some more. Alone, she wandered through the house, trying to pinpoint her part in the whole picture.

  She was a stranger. Yet her family had sprung from Innocence. She hadn’t known Edda Lou, yet she had been the one to find her. She’d never spoken a single word to Austin Hatinger. But he’d shot at her.

  She didn’t know Matthew Burns. Oh, his type certainly, but not him. Still, it was true that they moved in the same circles, knew the same places, spoke the same language. How that could help solve a crime was beyond her. Yet Susie had made her feel responsible.

  She was—for lack of a better term—involved with one of the suspects. Another was working for her.

  So she felt even more responsible.

  Oh, she knew all about responsibilities. They snuck up on you, attached themselves to you like tiny, thirsty leeches until you were sucked dry.

  She’d had a responsibility to her parents, to her music, to her teachers, her maestros, her fellow musicians, to her fans. And, as he’d insisted right up to the last, she’d had a responsibility to Luis.

  Oddly enough, she’d come to Innocence to escape from responsibility for a little while, only to find herself bogged down in it all over again.

  She could do nothing. She understood that now. It had always been her choice, and she had always chosen to give in rather than fight back.

  But wasn’t it different this time? Wouldn’t she be giving in by doing nothing? Though she doubted she had anything to offer, she was involved. Not just with Tucker, but with Innocence. And for the time bein
g, Innocence was home.

  “All right, all right.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “I’ll go talk to him. I’ll make a few quiet suggestions, Yankee to Yankee.”

  She snatched up her purse and was heading out the front door when Matthew Burns turned into her drive.

  Well, Caroline thought with a sigh. It must be fate.

  “I’ve caught you on your way out,” Burns said as he stepped from his car.

  “No—that is, yes.” Caroline smiled and altered her plans. “But I have a few minutes yet. Would you like to come in?”

  “I would. Very much.” The moment he stepped onto the porch, Useless began to growl behind the screen door.

  “He’s just a puppy,” Caroline assured Burns. “A little leery of strangers.” She opened the door and scooped the dog up.

  “Cute,” Burns commented, but Caroline heard the word mongrel clear as a bell.

  “He’s excellent company.” She decided against setting Useless outside and carried him with her into the parlor. “Can I get you something? Iced tea, coffee?”

  “Iced tea would be wonderful. I’m afraid I’ll never get used to the heat.”

  “Heat?” Caroline said with the same amused derision she’d heard from so many of the locals. “Oh, it doesn’t get hot until August. Please have a seat. I’ll be right back.” She snickered to the dog as she went into the kitchen. When she returned, Burns was standing, hands linked behind his back, frowning at the bullet hole in her sofa.

  “An interesting conversation piece, isn’t it?” She set the tray of drinks down. “I’ve about decided not to have it repaired.”

  “It’s deplorable. Hatinger shooting into this house without any concern that you might have been hurt. He didn’t even know you.”

  “Fortunately, Tucker thought quickly.”

  “If he’d thought at all, he wouldn’t have put you in such a dangerous position.”

  Caroline took a seat, understanding that Burns’s stiff manners wouldn’t permit him to do so first. “Actually, I don’t believe Tucker was aware that Austin was out with a rifle. It came as quite a surprise to both of us. Would you like lemon or sugar?”

  “Just a little lemon, thank you.” He took his place on the couch, shifting slightly to face her. “Caroline, as I’ve loved your music for years, I feel as if I know you.”

  Her smile remained pleasant. “It’s funny how often people make that mistake. Actually, the music I play belongs to numerous composers and isn’t mine at all.”

  He cleared his throat. “What I mean is, I’ve admired your talents, and followed your career, so I feel a certain connection. I hope I can speak frankly.”

  She sipped. “So do I.”

  “I’m concerned, Caroline, very concerned. I’ve heard talk around town that you’ve been seeing Tucker Longstreet.”

  She settled back in the crook of the couch. “That’s the marvelous thing about small towns, don’t you think? If you sit in one place for more than five minutes, you hear everything.”

  He stiffened like a poker. “Personally, I don’t care for rumor, gossip, or innuendo.” Her quick burst of laughter had him tightening his lips.

  “I’m sorry. You made that sound like a rock group or a law firm.” She swallowed the next chuckle when he didn’t respond in kind. Laughing at him was certainly no way to soften him up so that he’d listen to a suggestion. “Places like this run on gossip, Matthew. I imagine it could even be helpful.”

  “Indeed. However much I abhor such habits, I must take this professionally. You’d be wise to do the same. Tucker Longstreet is still being questioned regarding a vicious and brutal murder.”

  Nerves had Caroline passing the glass from hand to hand, but her eyes remained level. “As I understand, several people are being questioned. I suppose that would include me.”

  “Your involvement with this is merely that of an innocent bystander who happened to find a body.”

  “There’s no merely about it, Matthew. I found the body, and I’m a member of this community. I have …” Her lips curved at the truth of it. “I have friends here, and probably numerous cousins of one sort or the other.”

  “And you consider Tucker Longstreet a friend?”

  “I’m not sure exactly what I consider Tucker.” She gave him a bland look. “Is that a professional question?”

  “I’m investigating a series of murders,” he said flatly. “I have not crossed Mr. Longstreet off my list. I consider him someone to be watched, carefully watched. You may not be aware that he had relationships with the other two victims.”

  “Matthew, I’ve been here for over two weeks. I’m well aware of it. Just as I’m aware that Woodrow and Sugar Pruett’s marriage is in trouble, and that Bea Stokey’s boy, LeRoy, got a ticket for speeding out on route One. Just as I’m aware that Tucker isn’t capable of doing any of those hideous things to those poor women.”

  A long, patient breath, and Burns set aside his iced tea. It never failed to fascinate him how easily women could be taken in. “People were fooled by Ted Bundy’s charm and attractive looks. A serial killer is not someone you recognize as such in the everyday course of things. They are clever, manipulative, and often highly intelligent. And often, yes quite often, they themselves go for periods of time when they have no recollection of what they’ve done. And if they do, they hide it under a mask of affability or concern. But they lie, Caroline. They lie because what they live for is the kill. The anticipation of it, the skill with which they hunt, stalk and slay.”

  He watched her pale and reached for her hand. “I’m frightening you. I mean to. Someone, very likely someone in this small rural community, is hiding behind a mask, and plotting the next kill. I will use all my skill, all my knowledge, to stop him. But it may not be enough. And if it’s not, he will kill again.”

  She had to set the tea aside. She needed nothing cool now, not when her blood had turned to ice. “If that’s true—”

  “It is.”

  “If it is,” she repeated, “shouldn’t you be using all available assistance?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’re an outsider here, Matthew. Your badge doesn’t change that. If anything, the fact that it’s federal makes you more of an outsider. If you want to help these people, then use Burke Truesdale.”

  His smile was tight as he straightened his shoulders. “I appreciate your concern, Caroline, but the simple fact is you don’t know what’s involved here.”

  “No, I don’t. But I do know about politics and authority. No one could perform with dozens of different orchestras under dozens of different maestros and not understand the food chain. My point is, Matthew, you—as I have been most of my life—are the outsider. Burke knows these people. You don’t.”

  “Which is precisely part of the problem. He knows them, he sympathizes with them. He’s related to them or has old friendships to protect.”

  “You’re speaking about Tucker again.”

  “To be specific. The term is ‘good ol’ boys,’ isn’t it? They toss back a few beers together, shoot some rabbits or other small creatures, and sit on their porches and talk about cotton and women.” He brushed a speck of lint from his trousers. “No, I don’t know these people, Caroline, but I know of them. The last thing I need to solve this case is to enlist Burke Truesdale to pave my way. I believe him to be an honest man. And a loyal one. It’s his loyalties that concern me.”

  “May I speak frankly, Matthew?”

  He spread his hands. “Please.”

  “You’re behaving like a pompous ass,” she said, and watched his face fall. “That might work well in D.C. or Baltimore, but it doesn’t cut it here in the delta. If someone else is killed—as you seem to believe—then look to yourself and wonder if it might have been prevented. If you might have prevented it by having a liaison to these people instead of standing back all smug and superior.”

  He rose stiffly. “I’m sorry, Caroline, that we’re unable to see eye to eye on this
matter. However you might feel, I must still advise you to curtail your involvement with Tucker Longstreet until this case is resolved.”

  “I’ve discovered a terrible habit in myself of ignoring advice.”

  “Your choice.” He inclined his head. “I’ll have to ask you to come in to my temporary headquarters tomorrow. Around ten, if that’s convenient.”

  “Why?”

  “I have some questions. Official questions.”

  “Then I’ll give you answers. Official answers.”

  She didn’t bother to see him to the door.

  chapter 17

  Caroline didn’t even have to weigh her loyalties. Before Burns’s dust had cleared, she was scooping up Useless and heading for her car. The keys were dangling in the ignition, right where she’d left them.

  Turning, she looked back at the house. She hadn’t locked the doors. Hadn’t even thought about it. Foolish, perhaps, considering the recent violence that had tainted Innocence. But to lock the doors without closing and latching the windows was even more foolish. And to do that meant trapping the heat inside.

  In less than a month, she’d picked up country habits.

  “I’m not going to be afraid in my own home,” she told Useless as she set him inside the car. He immediately propped his front paws on the dash, tongue lolling in anticipation of a ride.

  “My home,” she repeated, studying the house, the fresh paint, the polished windows, the scarred porch rocker. With a sense of satisfaction and purpose she climbed into the car. “Come on, Useless, it’s time we took an active part in the grapevine.”

  She backed down the drive, unaware of the figure that stood, shadowed by the line of trees, watching.

  The Statler Brothers were wailing away from a four-foot boom box on the porch at Sweetwater. Keeping them company were Lulu and Dwayne. Lulu still wore her eagle feather and her combat boots. To complete the outfit she wore a splotched painter’s smock over Levis and a pair of ruby earrings with stones as big as pullet eggs.