Because of the summer’s drought, the water level in the Suwannee River had dropped so low that the end of the ramp jutted over the water instead of under it. Elderly Gabe Reesor sat in a webbed lawn chair in the shade of a nearby oak, protected from the sight of the dead woman by the wooden dock that bordered the boat ramp. At the edge of the cement lay the body of Cathleen Hodges, hardly recognizable. Wil stooped for a closer look.
Twigs and debris tangled with Cathleen’s long, brown hair. Her once-olive skin was bleached white, her mahogany eyes missing from their sockets, no doubt victims of Florida’s waterfowl population. Bloated and grotesque, she bore little resemblance to the thirty-something veterinarian who’d opened her practice last year. Without touching the corpse, Wil couldn’t be sure but guessed rigor mortis had already set in. She’d been reported missing Monday after having last been seen Friday. She may have been dead for days.
Just as Jamie said, a small bullet hole punctured the deceased’s temple. From Wil’s experience, he figured twenty-two caliber at close range. Who had shot Cathleen Hodges and why? Did Foster County harbor a killer, or was he an outsider? From behind Wil a shadow fell, shading him and the corpse from the morning summer sun. Without turning to look, he knew it was Adam.
“Gunshot wound to the temple.” Adam Gillespie’s voice boomed with authority. “So this was no drowning.”
“We’ll know more after the postmortem.” Wil stood but didn’t turn to face Adam. Instead, he addressed Brady and Jamie. “The ME’s office is sending someone now. Should be here in an hour.”
“Did you talk to Reesor?” Adam asked. “I understand he discovered the body.”
Wil turned to face him. “As you’re well aware, I just got here. I’m handling the crime scene, so you can relax and go back to your own jurisdiction.”
“My family still owns land out here.” He gestured to the opposite bank of the Suwannee. “I have a personal interest.”
“Interest doesn’t include investigating a crime in the county.”
Adam’s mouth widened into a friendly grin, one Wil knew was meant for his audience’s benefit, not his. “Now, no need to be territorial, Sheriff Drake. I’m here to lend my assistance. Your force isn’t equipped to handle a homicide investigation.”
“Neither is yours, Chief Gillespie, which is why we have FDLE.” Wil didn’t want to antagonize Adam further, so he softened his tone. “Seriously, I do appreciate your offer to help.”
Adam nodded. “Call if you need me.”
Wil watched Adam retreat up the ramp. Brady ran a hand through his thick salt-and-pepper hair and moved closer to Wil. “I know we’re supposed to be on the same team, Sheriff, but I don’t trust him.”
Wil couldn’t afford to let a personal feud interfere with the job. “You can trust him, Brady. He’s a good lawman. He just doesn’t like me.”
Brady snorted. “I’d say the feeling is mutual.”
The origins of the hostility between the Drakes and the Gillespies had been clouded by the years and the gossip to the extent that Wil couldn’t have explained them if he wanted to—which he didn’t, and certainly not to members of his force. No point in fueling rumors. “I don’t dislike Chief Gillespie.”
“I heard you dated his sister.”
He’d dated both sisters, not that he’d discuss that with Brady or anyone. “That was high school, a long time ago.”
Something in his tone must have alerted Brady that the subject was closed, because he wisely changed the subject. “I took Mr. Reesor’s statement, but do you want to question him, too?”
“I’ll talk to him.”
Jamie pulled folded paper from her breast pocket. “Here’s a copy of the missing persons report on the victim.”
“Thanks. Did you know her?”
Jamie shrugged. “Sure. She neutered and declawed Chigger, my kitten. How about you?”
“I talked to her a couple of times. She gave Sophie her rabies shot last month.”
Actually, Cathleen Hodges had flirted with Wil, but he wasn’t going to mention that to his deputy. Cathleen had certainly been attractive, although the image of her bloated corpse now superseded his memory of her.
Wil stepped into the shade of a clump of crepe myrtles and took a moment to scan the printout. He came to the names of those who’d last seen Cathleen Hodges before her disappearance. She’d had dinner with three friends at the Hurricane Lantern, Drake Springs’s only decent tavern, and was last seen pulling out of the parking lot. No one reported seeing her after that, but someone had seen her. And that someone had murdered her.
Kris Knight, one of the friends who’d last seen her, filed the missing persons report after Cathleen Hodges had missed a breakfast meeting, failed to answer her telephone all weekend, and hadn’t shown up at her veterinary practice yesterday. Miss Knight taught English at Foster County High School. Wil had met the woman and knew a little about her. She wasn’t his type, so he hadn’t followed up their few conversations with a date. Oh, she had the looks: tall, thin and willowy frame, long brown hair, lush eyelashes that framed brown eyes. Her eyes reminded him of Elizabeth’s, the color of fine bourbon, hidden behind glasses that—
Whoa, Wil. Unfortunately, too many things reminded him of Elizabeth Stevens. She seemed to lurk at the edges of his mind on a regular basis, sidetracking his thoughts. Giving himself a mental shake, he turned his attention once more to the report. As if conjured up from his imagination, the name Elizabeth Stevens appeared with the names of the women last seen with Cathleen Hodges. Elizabeth was the newcomer in Drake Springs who interested him most and whom he knew the least. For whatever reason, she kept her distance.
The deceased’s third dinner companion was Sunny Davis, an attractive blonde who seemed to be the only one of the quartet who was married. Her husband, Ian Davis, ran information systems for the college. All four women were fairly new to the area, which was why Wil made a point to learn what he could about each one. None of the three women seemed a likely murder suspect, but he’d have to question each of them.
Wil strolled over to where Gabe Reesor sat. He saw no reason to question the older man. He had an hour to kill before either FDLE or the medical examiner would arrive, though, and he wanted to see for himself that the old guy wasn’t distressed by the morning’s discovery. If only Wil could say the same for himself.
Reesor lived in a single-wide mobile home on stilts located a few yards from his boat ramp and dock. A lifetime spent on the river had leathered the fisherman’s already dark skin. Cataracts clouded his eyes, but his other senses seemed sharp as ever. Thin and wiry, he got around better than some men decades younger. He’d supplied Boyd’s Diner and Miller’s IGA Market with fresh fish until he’d retired last year.
“H’lo, Wil.” Reesor straightened in his chair at Wil’s approach. “Sheriff Drake, I mean.”
Wil squeezed the man’s shoulder. “Mr. Gabe, you’ve called me ‘Wil’ all my life. No need to change that just because I won an election.”
Reesor’s dark face split into a grin, revealing a few gaps from missing teeth. “Yeah, I used to chase you young daredevils outta my cave, especially that little sister of yours. Ain’t seen her in years, though. Where’s she been?”
Wil hadn’t seen much of his sister, either. “Taylor travels the country taking photographs, mostly for spelunking magazines, travel journals and such.”
Reesor’s smile disappeared. “I expect you want to talk to me ‘bout finding that body.”
“No need. You already gave your statement to Deputy Newcomb.” Wil gave Reesor’s shoulder another squeeze. “Heck of a way to start your morning, though, isn’t it?”
“Worse for that poor woman.”
“Yeah, I can’t argue with that.”
“Are you entertained by murder, gore, witchcraft, and the criminal mind?” Mouths dropped, and eyes widened at Elizabeth’s words. Good. She had their attention, at least for the moment. She’d had no idea if her approach would be effective, b
ut it had worked on her as a student years earlier, and it’d worked today on her morning class.
She left the platform to pace in front of the students. “You’re here to study Shakespeare’s tragedy plays for the next ten weeks. Violence and suspense fans, you’re in the right class because this is the Shakespeare we’ll be reading this quarter.”
The inevitable smart-ass raised his hand and said, “I’m just here to get a humanities credit.”
Some of the students giggled. Elizabeth stared at the young man and cocked one eyebrow as she’d seen her grandmother do a thousand times. “Let’s hope you aren’t squeamish.”
The din receded. She returned to the podium, where she’d dumped her stack of handouts. Gripping the edge of the lectern, she drew a deep breath. “Where do Hollywood writers get ideas for popular films? Shakespeare.”
Their attention piqued, they listened to her opening class lecture, the one that put Shakespeare on familiar ground. “Those of you who previously studied the comedies with me remember the twins switched at birth.”
A student from her previous term called out, “Comedy of Errors.”
“Right. Any of you see that old Bette Midler and Lily Tomlin movie, Big Business? Two sets of identical twins, switched at birth. Same story, just updated. This quarter we’ll study more familiar storylines. Romeo and Juliet, a well-known story retold countless ways, is perhaps most famously updated in the musical West Side Story. How about you sci-fi fans? Anyone remember a classic from the fifties Forbidden Planet?”
The smart-ass nodded now, his expression changed from mildly bored to mildly interested.
She smiled at him. “Try reading The Tempest. Same story, different planet. And if you think the movie The Departed was violent, wait until we study Titus Andronicus. Shakespeare’s first drama has violence and gore that would trouble today’s censors.”
Movement by the door distracted her from the lecture. A face filled the door’s glass window. Not just any face, but the sharp angular jaw, blond hair, and strong nose suggestive of Norse roots. Wilson Drake.
She gathered her handouts and her composure. “Uh, but I’m getting ahead of our syllabus. Here are your assignments for this class. Please review them and be ready to discuss the setup for Hamlet on Friday.”
She concentrated on distributing the handouts, trying to ignore the butterflies in her chest. Why was Wilson here? The bigger question: Why did his visit to her classroom “throw her into a tizzy,” as her grandma was fond of saying?
Twice today she’d thought about her grandmother, and the ache in her chest replaced her nervous flutters. She missed her grandmother so much, just as she missed all of her family. And her horses. Oh, how she’d love to go riding again, but she couldn’t. Anything she loved or would normally enjoy was taboo. Deviating from her new persona even once could get her recognized. She lived life in a bizarre alternate universe.
She pushed aside her self-pity and dismissed the class. Gathering her notes and handouts, she slid them into her briefcase and waited for the sheriff to approach her. He pushed his way through the crush of exiting students toward the lectern, clutching a thin stack of paper.
“What brings you here, Sheriff Drake?”
“Ah, Elizabeth, darlin’, I keep telling you, you can call me Wil.” Mischief lurked behind his serious eyes.
“And you can address me as Professor Stevens, Sheriff. I’m on duty here.”
“So am I.” All mirth evaporated from his expression. “We need to talk. In private.”
The law wanted to talk to her? No! She’d been more than careful. She’d been perfect. What could she have done that betrayed herself? All the blood in her head seemed to drain to her feet. Her vision blurred. Grabbing the lectern, she steadied herself.
Her appearance must have alarmed him, because he gripped her elbow. “Hey, are you all right?”
She opened her eyes and met his gaze, hoping to see his face frowning with concern. Instead, she saw suspicion.
Oh, dear God, he knows.
CHAPTER TWO
Wil released her elbow but couldn’t rid himself of the questions flooding his mind. Elizabeth Stevens couldn’t be a murderer—he’d bet his career. So why did she look at him with guilt written all over her face? Judging from her reaction, he was sure she knew something about the Cathleen Hodges homicide. Except he hadn’t mentioned it yet. Did Elizabeth know they’d found her body?
“Is there someplace we can go, like your office?”
“Yes, my office.” She seemed to regain her composure. At least she no longer appeared about to pass out. “It’s upstairs.”
He followed her into the hall, then escorted her up the stairs to her second-floor office. The walk-in closet in the family house at Drake Oaks was no smaller than the windowless room. She flicked on the fluorescent lights on her way to her desk, where she dropped her briefcase on top. Scooting behind her desk to sit, she offered him the only other seat, a hard metal folding chair.
“What’s this about, Sheriff Drake?”
Tempted to push her to tell him why she’d nearly collapsed in her classroom, he forged ahead, focusing on his investigation. “It’s about Cathleen Hodges.”
“Cathleen? Is she all right? Kris said she hadn’t—”
“She’s dead.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, her mouth forming a large O. “Oh, my God! What happened?”
“We’re waiting for the autopsy, but she appears to have died of a gunshot wound.” Wil watched her closely. Her shock seemed genuine, but what about her earlier reaction? Did she have her own reasons for avoiding his questions?
“Was it self-inflicted?”
“Why would you ask that?”
She avoided his gaze, paying an excessive amount of attention to the combination lock on her briefcase. “What’s the alternative—murder? Either scenario is terrible.”
“All I can tell you is we are investigating it as a homicide.” He slid a small notebook from his pocket. “I need to ask you about Friday evening. You may be the last person to have seen Cathleen Hodges alive.”
Her eyes filled, but she blinked furiously and held the tears at bay. He liked that in a woman. In fact, he liked too many things about Elizabeth Stevens. Nonetheless, he had to question her, his personal feelings aside. Before being elected county sheriff, Wil had been a detective. A damned good detective. He’d find out what—if anything—Elizabeth Stevens was hiding. Right now he needed to focus on his case.
“The four of us—Cathleen, Sunny, Kris, and I—get together about every week for a girl’s night out. Nothing wild. No bar hopping or anything. Just dinner and talk. Laughs.” She shrugged and met his gaze. “We usually go downtown to the Hurricane Lantern, although a few times we’ve driven over to White Springs to eat at the Telford Hotel.”
“But last Friday you ate at the Lantern, right?”
“Yes. Sunny usually organized our get-togethers, depending on Ian’s work schedule.”
“The four of you were new to Drake Springs, right?”
Elizabeth nodded. “That was our bond. None of us knew anyone else here, so we gravitated to each other as newbies.”
“How did you first meet?”
“Sunny and I met at the bookstore on campus and struck up a conversation about where to buy house wares in town—you know, stuff like dish drainers, paper towel holders, and such—and I invited her to go with me to the dollar store that afternoon. Her husband met us for dinner at the Hurricane Lantern, which was the first time I’d eaten there. I’d mistaken it for a beer joint.”
“Well, it does look rustic on the outside.”
“Rustic? That’s putting it mildly. Anyway, that’s how Sunny and I became friends. We take turns cooking for each other one night a week, and then we go out one night a week with Kris and Cathleen.”
“So how did you hook up with them to start the weekly dinner thing?”
“Ian’s cat got sick, so I rode with them to take the cat to the vet, who turned o
ut to be Cathleen Hodges. Her practice was new, and she needed to spread the word that she was open for business. Sunny and I offered to pin up business cards around campus. We both sensed that Cathleen didn’t really have friends in town, so we invited her to join us for dinner the following Friday. Anyway, Cathleen did all she could for Bebo, but he had to be euthanized.”
“And Kris Knight? How did she come to be part of your foursome?”
“The very Friday night we rode over to The Telford Hotel in White Springs—”
“Your first outing with Cathleen Hodges?”
“Yes. So that night at dinner, we saw a woman dining alone at the next table. We felt sorry for her and asked her to move to our table.”
“Sunny’s husband didn’t go?”
“No, he does a lot of systems maintenance routines at night, which is why Sunny’s on her own.”
“Then you, Sunny, and Cathleen invited a lone diner to your table. Was that Kris Knight?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Turns out she had just moved to Drake Springs, too. She teaches English at the high school. She fit right in, and we made plans to meet again the next week. You know the rest.”
“Okay, so this past Friday night you met for dinner at the Hurricane Lantern. Did anything out of the ordinary happen, like overly friendly advances by other patrons or any altercations with other customers? Anything like that?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Not a thing. To an outsider, it would’ve been boring dinner conversation.”
“I need for you to tell me everything about that night, even the dinner conversation.”
“I’ll tell you what I remember, but you’ll need to ask Sunny and Kris, too.”
“I’ll be talking with them.”
Elizabeth inhaled a lengthy breath, then slowly exhaled. “Kris arrived first and got us a table. I don’t know how long she’d been there when I arrived—”
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