To her surprise Luke leaned over and took her hand. For a moment she
allowed the heat and strength of his grasp to comfort her, ease her
fears. "It's important you find out what's happening with you. We
need to know if you suffered a blackout the night that Greg was
killed."
Abby snatched her hand away, reminded once again of the reason Luke was
here, what his ultimate goal was in being with her. "We may never know
for sure whether I suffered a blackout that night, but I know I didn't
kill Greg. I'm not capable of that kind of violence." And she
resented the fact that Luke had held her in his arms, made sweet love
to her, and didn't realize it was impossible for her to commit
murder.
She opened her door, irritated by how easily he could affect her with
just a simple touch. "Let's get this over with," she said as she got
out of the truck.
Despite her irritation with Luke, she was grateful for his presence
next to her as they entered the bar. The interior was dim, with a
thick layer of smoke that lay like a veil across the low ceiling. The
jukebox in one corner blared the latest Alan Jackson hit and several
couples danced in drunken movements on the small sawdust-covered dance
floor.
"Hey, little lady, ain't never seen you in here before." A cowboy
leaned toward Abby with a smile, nearly falling off his bar stool in
the process.
"And you'll never see me in here again," Abby replied as she took a
step closer to Luke.
"Come on, let's talk to the bartender." Luke placed an arm around her
shoulder, glared at the drank on the stool, then led her to the other
end of the long wooden bar where the bartender was talking to a young
woman.
"What can I get for you?" he asked as Luke and Abby slid onto
stools.
"Two beers," Luke said. "And perhaps a little information."
The bartender looked like a man who had once been a prizefighter. His
nose was flat and scar tissue formed a knot across one eyebrow. The
glare he shot at Luke didn't improve his forbidding countenance. "I'll
get you two beers, but I'm not no information booth."
"What kind of information are you looking for, handsome?" the woman
next to Luke asked as the bartender turned to get their drinks.
Luke turned around on the stool and offered her a sexy smile. The
woman's heavily lined eyes flared with a spark of feminine interest and
Abby had the ridiculous impulse to hit both of them upside their
heads.
"You a regular in here?" Luke asked.
The bartender snorted. "If Dotty here gets any more regular she's
gonna start having to help pay the taxes on this place." He slammed
two full beer mugs down in front of them. "You two the heat?" he
asked, his gaze suspicious.
"No, we aren't cops," Luke replied. "We don't care whether your liquor
license is current or if you serve minors."
"Huh, a minor bellies up to my bar, I kick his butt," the bartender
exclaimed. "So, if you aren't cops, what kind of information are you
looking for?"
"You know any of the workers from the Connor spread?" Luke asked.
"I do," Dotty said, and smiled coyly as Luke looked at her once again.
"I've danced with them, drank with them. One of them, the blond named
Roger, tried to pick me up one time by telling me he was a son of some
congressman." She laughed and shook her head. "I thought I'd heard
every line a man could throw at a woman, but that was definitely a new
one."
"Who else have you seen in here from the COnnor place?"
Dotty shrugged. "I figure all the men have been in at one time or
another. The old man, Rusty, comes in occasionally and Billy is in
here almost every night." She frowned. "Although he's definitely not
the friendly sort. He usually sits in the co ruer and drinks until
he's nearly passed out."
"Did you know a man named Greg Foxwood?" Abby asked, wanting to cut to
the chase and get out of the bar.
Dotty. leaned forward, her eyes widened. "You mean the guy who was
murdered, right?" Abby nodded and Dotty continued. "Yeah, I knew
him." She shivered and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. "What a
trip, one week I'm rolling around in his bed, and the next week he's
dead."
Abby flushed. She didn't want to know intimate details about what Greg
had done with various women in the weeks before his murder. '"Did you
ever see Greg talking to any of the men from the Connor ranch?"
Dotty's eyes narrowed. "You're his ex-wife, aren't you? The one
they've arrested for his murder?" Dotty grinned. "I don't blame you,
honey. He was a fine-looking man, but it was easy to see he had the
wanderlust. Hell, I wasn't the only woman in here he slept with."
Abby took a sip of her beer, appalled that Dotty had given her approval
for supposedly killing Greg. Abby was out of her realm of reality.
Resentment toward Greg flooded through her. She resented him for
sucking her down into such an ugly piece of the world.
"So, did you see Greg having conversations with any of the men from the
Connor ranch?" Luke picked up the questioning where Abby had left
off.
Dotty frowned thoughtfully. "I don't remember anything specific, but
this is a small place and Greg was a friendly man. I'm sure he
probably talked to all of them."
Abby touched Luke's arm. "Let's get out of here. This is a dead
end."
Luke nodded and took a couple deep drinks of his beer. Then, throwing
a few dollars on the bar, he stood. "Thanks for your time and your
help," he said to both the bartender and Dotty. The bartender grunted
and Dotty smiled.
"Anytime, handsome," she replied, casting him another smile that
indicated she'd love more time with him if he'd lose Abby's company.
Abby and Luke had just about reached the door when it opened and Billy
Sims walked in. His dark eyes widened in shock as he saw them.
Immediately he turned and began to make his way to a table in the
corner. Before he could get there, Luke grabbed his arm.
"I want to talk to you, Sims," he said.
Abby was as surprised as Billy at Luke's demand. "About what?" Billy
asked with a dash of belligerence.
"About what you were doing in Abby's barn yesterday."
"I don't have to talk to you about nothing," Billy exclaimed. He
tried, unsuccessfully, to tear his arm from Luke's grasp.
"I think you do--that is, unless you want to be implicated in a charge
of attempted murder."
Abby wasn't sure who gasped louder, her or Billy. "What are you
talking about?" This time Billy managed to jerk out of Luke's grasp,
but he made no attempt to move away from them.
"I'm talking about the fact that somebody tried to kill Abby by
throwing a bale of hay from the loft yesterday and I saw you in the
barn before it happened."
Abby looked at Luke sharply, wondering why he hadn't mentioned seeing
Billy in the barn before now. They'd been parmers for less than
twenty-four hours and already he was withholding inf
ormation from
her.
"You're crazy," Billy replied. "I wouldn't do any thing like that. I
wouldn't try to hurt Miss Connor."
"Then what were you doing in the barn?"
"I had to get something." Billy stared down at his feet, refusing to
meet either of their gazes. "Something that I'd forgotten."
"What, Billy? What did you take?"
Abby felt pressure build in her chest as she waited for his answer. Why
had he been in her barn after she'd fired him? Had he stolen a
branding iron? Had he intended to implicate her in yet another
crime?
"I had a stash hidden in the barn," Billy mumbled, his words barely
audible.
"A stash? I don't understand," Abby said. "Booze," Luke answered
flatly. "Is that right?" Billy nodded. "I had a couple bottles
hidden in the barn. Yesterday I went back to get them." For the first
time he looked directly at Abby. "But I swear, I didn't throw no hay
bale at you. I was mad 'cause you fired me, but I'd never try to hurt
nobody."
Abby believed him. She'd had her share of mean men working at the
ranch. But Billy, although not particularly well liked by the other
workers, had not had a reputation as a brawler or a vicious man. Rather
he'd been viewed with a combination of disgust and pity.
"Come on, Luke. Let's go home," she said, suddenly exhausted. The day
had begun with such promise. She'd been sure that by thoroughly
checking Greg's room they would find proof in some shape or form of her
innocence.
Even on the way to the bar, she'd retained the hope that somehow they'd
find some answers, that somebody in the bar held the secrets she needed
to be cleared.
As she and Luke walked back to the truck, her despair lay heavy in her
heart: What if they never found anything to absolve her? The thought
caused her to stumble. She pitched forward, gasping as Luke grabbed
her and steadied her close against him.
"You all right?" His breath was warm against her temple.
She nodded, fighting the need to lean against him to allow him to wrap
her in his arms and keep her safe. But she knew that wasn't what he
offered her. : He was here to find a killer and for no other reason.
"I'm fine," she said as she stepped back from him. "Discouraged, but
fine."
"You shouldn't be discouraged," Luke said once they were in the truck
and heading back to the ranch. "We now know there is a definite
possibility of connection between somebody at the ranch and Greg." '
"Yeah, but a connection with whom? This doesn'i help me at all."
"Sure it does," Luke countered. "At least yo lawyer can make a
reasonable alternative theory for
Greg's murder, that he fought with. somebody frol the ranch who later
took a branding iron and used to kill him. "
"I don't want alternative theories, I want to be abl to go into court
with positive proof that I'm inn cent." To her horror, her last words
ended on a sow
She gulped, swallowing convulsively as she fought
for control, but the tears came faster and faster. She couldn't wipe
them away fast enough to keep the from blurring her vision.
"Pull over. I'll drive." Luke's voice was filled with a touch of
sympathy and Abby didn't hesitate to take him up on-the offer.
She swerved, over onto the shoulder and stumbled from the truck, sobs
still pressing thickly against her chest. Despair overwhelmed her,
deeper, more profound than any she'd ever experienced in her life. She
had no defenses left, no strength to still the tears.
Luke met her at the front of the truck and rather than passing her to
get into the driver's seat, he pulled her against him, holding her
tight as she continued to cry.
Despite her desire not to, Abby gave in to her need to cling to him.
The darkness of the night, and the isolation of the area where she'd
pulled over helped by giving her a sense of privacy.
She cried until there were no more tears left, only gasping dry hiccups
that she found enormously embarrassing. She finally disentangled
herself from him. "Thanks," she murmured, averting her face from his
view.
His palms cupped each side of her face, forcing her to look up at him.
"Abby, there's no shame in needing a shoulder to cry on. There's no
disgrace in not being strong all the time."
Abby stiffened and pushed away from him. "I know," she said softly,
then went around the truck and got into the passenger seat.
Easy for him to say, she thought as he started the truck. Certainly
there was no shame in needing somebody to comfort you, hold you up when
the world's weight got too heavy. That's what people who cared about
each other did. But she'd be a fool to depend despair lay heavy in her
heart: What if they never found anything to absolve her? The thought
caused her to stumble. She pitched forward, gasping as Luke grabbed
her and steadied her close against him. ! i
"You all right?" His breath was warm against her temple.
She nodded, fighting the need to lean against him,
to allow him to wrap her in his arms and keep her safe. But she knew
that wasn't what he offered her. : He was here to find a killer and
for no other reason.
"I'm fine," she said as she stepped back from him. "Discouraged, but
fine."
"You shouldn't be discouraged," Luke said once they were in the truck
and heading back to the ranch. "We now know there is a definite
possibility of a connection between somebody at the ranch and Greg."
"Yeah, but a connection with whom? This doesn't help me at all." "
"
"Sure it does, Luke countered. At least your lawyer can make a
reasonable alternative theory for!J
Greg's murder, that he fought with somebody from the ranch who later
took a branding iron and used '
to kill him. "
"I don't want alternative theories, I want to to go into court with
positive proof that I'm cent." To her horror, her last words ended on
a
She gulped, swallowing convulsively as she fought for control, but the
tears came faster and faster.
couldn't wipe them away fast enough to keep from blurring her vision.
"Pull over. I'll drive." Luke's voice was with a touch of sympathy
and Abby didn't hesitate to take him up one the offer.
She swerved. over onto the shoulder and stumbled from the truck, sobs
still pressing thickly against her chest. Despair overwhelmed her,
deeper, more profound than any she'd ever experienced in her life. She
had no defenses left, no strength to still the tears.
Luke met her at the front of the truck and rather than passing her to
get into the driver's seat, he pulled her against him, holding her
tight as she continued to cry.
Despite her desire not to, Abby gave in to her need to cling to him.
The darkness of the night, and the isolation of the area where she'd
pulled over helped by giving her a sense of privacy.
She cried until there were no more tears left, only gasping dry hiccups
that she found enormously embarrassing. She finally dis
entangled
herself from him. "Thanks," she murmured, averting her face from his
view.
His palms cupped each side of her face, forcing her to look up at him.
"Abby, there's no shame in needing a shoulder to cry on. There's no
disgrace in not being strong all the time."
Abby stiffened and pushed away from him. "I know," she said softly,
then went around the truck and got into the passenger seat.
Easy for him to say, she thought as he started the truck. Certainly
there was no shame in needing somebody to comfort you, hold you up when
the world's weight got too heavy. That's what people who cared about
each other did. But she'd be a fool to depend on Luke Foxwood. He
didn't care about her and she resented the fact that he pretended he
did. More than that, she resented the fact that she wanted him to
care.
LUE FELT Abby's frustration as it filled the interior of the truck cab.
In truth, the same emotion rolled around inside him. He felt his
shirt, the dampness from her tears still evident. Her tears had
touched him, more than he'd thought possible. Since his time at the
ranch he'd come to admire her strength, and her uncharacteristic tears
had shaken him.
Cassidy, Carla - Midnight Wishes Page 17