Laurel Heights (Haunted Hearts Series Book 1)

by Denise Moncrief

  When he glanced up, he noticed Josh moving across the open work area, slowly approaching his desk. Even at a distance, the hangover was obvious in the red fleshy folds around Josh’s eyes. He hadn’t consumed enough beer the previous evening to look so decimated in the morning. Had Josh hit the bottle after he’d gotten home?

  Josh dropped into a nearby task chair and rolled closer to Gray’s desk. “I’ve been thinking...”

  No way Josh had done much thinking in his condition. “About what?”

  Josh lowered his voice to a whisper. “About Sam Richards and old man Cooley.”

  Gray tensed and glanced around the room. “What about them?” Accusing another deputy of suspicious behavior was shaky territory.

  “Didn’t you tell me the Standridge woman claimed she thought someone had been in her garage?”

  Gray nodded.

  “I’ve heard rumors that there are interconnecting caves running all through that mountain.” Josh stopped as if his comment was of ultra importance.

  Gray clamped his mouth shut to keep from snapping at Josh. He needed Josh to get to the point, so he could get back to his background investigation of James Standridge.

  “What are you getting at?” He glanced at his watch to emphasize his need to get on with his day.

  Josh ignored the nonverbal cue. The man was good at ignoring what he wanted to ignore.

  “Okay, so we’ve known or at least suspected for a while that Cooley is a meth cooker, right? We just can’t get onto his place to sniff out the lab.”

  Sniffing out a meth lab wasn’t difficult. They usually smelled like cat pee.

  Josh’s eyes lit with enthusiasm for the discussion. He had a sharp mind for critical analysis...when he was sober. Gray suspected Josh’s head hurt like crazy after last night’s indulgence.

  Josh licked his lips before he continued. “I read an article on the internet about this guy in Tennessee that set up his lab in a cave. Come on, Gray. Think about it. What better place to hide a meth lab than in a cave? Out of sight of your neighbors. Naturally hidden from view. Away from anyone who might notice strange activity. It’s practically perfect.”

  Except for one minor thing. Meth labs had a tendency to go boom boom if they weren’t allowed to breathe. Meth cookers inhaled deadly fumes if they didn’t get enough fresh air.

  “There is no good place to hide a meth lab—”

  “You’re not getting my point. A cave would be perfect with proper ventilation. Those caves beneath the mountain would surely connect the Cooley place to the Standridge place.” Josh leaned forward. “You said you thought Sam Richards was related to the Standridges, didn’t you? Well, is he?”

  Gray turned his monitor toward Josh, revealing the Standridge family genealogy he’d been working on. Josh studied the chart and then repeated Gray’s earlier whistle.

  “Well, there you go? That’s why Cooley and Richards are so tight.”

  Josh was jumping to some big conclusions, but considering Richards’s odd behavior lately, maybe Josh wasn’t far off base. Gray rose from his chair and Josh mirrored his action. They faced each other while Gray considered his options. Josh bounced on his toes as if he was ready to spring into action.

  Maybe the danger at Laurel Heights didn’t center on either Chase or Laurel. What would happen if either of them stumbled upon a meth operation? Had Sam Richards somehow managed to give Cooley access to Laurel Heights? For what reason? Gray had to get on the place and do a thorough search. Without a search warrant, he would need Laurel’s cooperation.

  “You want to go with me out to Laurel Heights? I need to talk to Laurel Standridge again.”

  Josh smiled. “Yeah, you know I do.”

  For a moment, it almost seemed as if they were a team again. He let the moment pass without comment. He and Josh might never completely mend the trust that had been broken between them. It wasn’t quite like old times. Not yet. Neither of them had mentioned bringing Ashley into the investigation. That was just as well.

  ****

  Chase studied the aisle of plumbing supplies before grabbing a few necessary parts. “I’ll need one of these and one of these and... I think that’s all.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to have to go into Fairview to get what you forgot.”

  “Okay, cranky. Settle down.”

  Laurel’s lower lip jutted out. Was her displeasure real or faked? Were they playing? He hoped so. They needed some lighthearted moments to bond them and get them through the rough times that were coming at them like a storm surge or a volcanic eruption or a F6 tornado.

  Chase laughed. “You are not pretty when you pout.”

  “You jerk.”

  He dropped his selections into the buggy and raised both hands. “Hey, you said the same thing to me. Fair is fair.”

  Her pout broke into a grin just as his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket. He hoped the call wasn’t from Rand, but it probably was. He hadn’t given the number to anyone else except Laurel, and she was standing right in front of him, so he answered with a sharp greeting. When he heard the caller’s response, he swore under his breath.

  Laurel nudged his upper arm. “Who is it?”

  He covered the phone. “How did Grayson get this number?”

  Her brows creased across her forehead. “He’s a cop. Those people have magical powers.” She waved her hands as if throwing pixie dust or something.

  He snorted at her observation. “What do you want, Grayson?”

  He didn’t like being interrupted when he was having a witty banter fest with Laurel. The two of them had so little relaxation together. It seemed every moment of their relationship was tense.

  “Peterson?”

  “You called me. You should know whose number this is.”

  “No, I didn’t know. I called the number blind.”

  “Then, how’d you get my number? This is a pay-as-you-go phone.” He paused and puffed out his cheeks.

  It all clicked. Sometimes he still thought like a cop. It just took a little while longer since he was out of practice. Because he had a disposable phone, getting a warrant for Laurel’s records was the only way Grayson could have acquired the number.

  “Why are you searching Laurel’s phone records?”

  Laurel was suddenly on alert. Her eyes glowed with irritation. She’d understood the implication of his question to Grayson, no doubt. She grumbled under her breath, and he was sure she said something ugly about Grayson’s ancestry.

  “I had probable cause. Now, I need to talk to the two of you. So quit playing games with me and open the door.” The cop sounded irate.

  “The reason we’re not answering the door is that we’re not home.” He wanted to add, “You moron,” on the end of the sentence, but refrained.

  “Don’t insult me. I can see you moving around in there.”

  Laurel seemed to be absorbing every word Chase said, so he tried not to let his alarm show.

  “If you see someone moving around in the house, it’s not one of us. We’re in Little Rock right now. If you don’t believe me... Don’t you have some way to triangulate the location of this phone to verify my location?” He adopted a mocking tone because he was well aware the use of that kind of technology was probably outside the county’s capabilities.

  “What in God’s name are you doing in Little Rock?”

  “None of your business.”

  He glanced at Laurel, who appeared ready to erupt if he didn’t relinquish the phone to her and allow her to speak to Grayson.

  “I’m handing the phone to Laurel. Tell her what you told me. I think she’ll give you permission to enter her house and do a search.”

  It was a good guess, and he hoped he wasn’t putting her on the spot, but she’d already suggested the idea of allowing Grayson to search her property. He passed the phone to her, and she grabbed it with a quick jerk.

  “What’s going on?” Her eyebrows drew together while she listened. “There’s a key hidden under
a large rock in the flower bed on the left side of the front stairs. The biggest rock.” Her fingers tightened around the phone. “No. Not just the garage. I’ve thought for a while someone was getting into my house. I don’t know how.”

  She nodded as if Grayson could see her non-verbal response to whatever he was saying on the other end of the airwaves.

  The seconds ticked into minutes. The man could get long-winded.

  “You have my permission to spend the night. Do any kind of investigation you want.”

  Chase flinched. She should never have given the cop carte blanche. He reached for the phone, hoping to do some damage control, but she twisted away from him. Grayson was obviously still talking.

  “Grayson?” She waited for a response. “When I said any kind of investigation, I meant paranormal, you understand? You can search for a hidden entrance to the house. You can search for evidence of a break-in. You can do what ghost hunters do when they are trying to debunk a supposed haunting. But you do not have permission to search my personal belongings looking for evidence against me. If you want that...get a warrant.” Her mouth twisted as if she wanted to say something more and couldn’t insert anything into Grayson’s side of the conversation. “All right, then.” With a glow of satisfaction on her face, she handed the phone back to Chase. “He wants to talk to you again.”

  Chase smiled at her and mouthed the words, “Good job.”

  She smiled back and the warm light in her eyes nearly made his knees go weak. There was a definite partners-in-crime vibe going on between them.

  When he placed the phone to his ear, the call had dropped. He crammed the cell into his back jeans pocket.

  “Maybe we should head back to the house.”

  He hated ending their getaway before it had gotten started.

  “Do we have to? Maybe we should stay away overnight and let Grayson and the red-haired guy do their thing. What if there is something paranormal going on in my house? Would those guys stir it up even more? If they do, I don’t want to be there.”

  He understood her hesitancy. Both of them were adamant skeptics when it came to paranormal activity.

  “Yeah, I agree. We should continue with our original plans. He’ll call if something happens, right?”

  “That’s what he promised.” Doubt edged her reply.

  She had once stated she didn’t trust Grayson. With good reason. The cop would snoop in her stuff without her permission. The positive side was that Grayson couldn’t take what he found to a prosecuting attorney unless the evidence had been found in plain sight. Chase knew for a fact that he’d find nothing out in the open to help his case. There shouldn’t be anything incriminating in her possessions, but Chase was well aware of how evidence could be twisted to fit the prevailing theory.

  How good was Grayson at keeping his word? It seemed to Chase that the cop didn’t have problems bending the truth to his purpose. He had no doubt that after his so-called paranormal investigation Grayson would know more about Laurel than she wanted him to know. More than she wanted anyone to know.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Laurel ran her finger around the rim of her water glass until it made a squeaky noise. She glanced up at Chase through her eyelashes and once again found him staring into space. Ever since Grayson’s phone call, he’d been absorbed in his thoughts.

  She turned her attention to the world outside the picture window next to their table and counted the trucks on the parking lot next door. Sixteen big rigs. Such a romantic setting. Such ambiance. Chase had apologized for taking her out on their first date to a truck stop, but she understood. Neither of them could afford a five-star restaurant. When he called this trip a date, she hadn’t argued, but it didn’t feel much like a date.

  She dared to interrupt his introspection because she needed his attention. There were things she needed to work out in her mind, and she wasn’t sure she could sort all the clutter alone.

  “What are you thinking about, Chase?”

  His eyes shifted away from some far distant point and met hers. “Just now? Us.”

  She caught her breath. His gaze was so intense. In his eyes, she discerned his feelings weren’t shallow. No, the emotion in their depths appeared like deep pools, seemingly bottomless.

  “Is there an us?” She hated the way she croaked the question. Not bold and confident. Scared and tremulous.

  “I don’t know. Is there?”

  His eyes seemed to search hers for answers she didn’t yet have.

  Suddenly uncomfortable, she swallowed hard and struggled to form just the right answer, maintaining eye contact against every instinct she had.

  “Chase...we’ve barely known each other a month. Actually, less than that. Even though it seems like forever because of everything that’s happened. But you know as well as I do that’s not enough time to decide if there is an us.”

  She’d made that mistake with Rand. She wasn’t going to do it again. Not with his brother.

  “Really? Because that’s all I’ve been able to think about tonight. The possibility of a permanent us.” He smiled and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “You didn’t want to talk about everything that’s happening back home, so what else was I supposed to think about? Haven’t you thought about the idea of us? Just a little?”

  “I can’t deny it. I’ve thought about it. But...it’s too soon after...you know, everything.”

  Rand had left his imprint on her psyche and it would take more than a few weeks before she could trust her heart to another man. Attraction sizzled between them and Laurel had more than once given in to the delicious desire, but she wanted more from Chase than physical attraction.

  He dropped his gaze and stirred his coffee, even though he had taken his brew black. She’d noticed the odd habit before and had refrained from commenting on it.

  “You were the one who mentioned something about a happily ever after for us.” His words seemed to zoom and zing around them.

  She sifted through her memory banks for the incident to which he referred and finally remembered the tidbit of conversation. Yeah, this is a sweet plan. I could get Grayson to fix all three of our problems and then we could live happily ever after.

  Had that been a slip or had she voiced her deepest desire? She hadn’t been guarding every word she spoke, and he had obviously file saved her comment for later retrieval.

  “I was just talking, Chase. It was just a figure of speech. I didn’t mean I was ready for something permanent.” She meant to sound firm and confident, but instead she sounded breathy and emotional.

  She tried to settle her hyped-up nerves. The thought of having Chase in her life forever excited her like nothing had in a long, long time, but there was no way they could know they wanted forever in three weeks. Could they?

  She slid her hand across the table, hoping Chase would meet her halfway. When his fingers closed around hers, her heart leaped and sang. Strange. His brother Rand had never made her feel so good. Chase managed to excite her emotions to a fever pitch with just a held hand. Something Rand couldn’t do with his whole body.

  She shook the thoughts from her head. It was a very bad idea to compare the two men. Chase was nothing like Rand.

  “It’s okay, Laurel. I’m not quite ready to talk about forever either.” He squeezed her hand and released it. “In my mind... In my heart, I’m still married to Angie.”

  “You don’t wear a ring.” She regretted the words as soon as they blurted out of her mouth.

  He raised his hand and stared at his bare ring finger. “The doc had to cut the ring off to save the finger.”

  For the first time, she noticed the tattoo on his forearm. A black rose. A memorial to his deceased wife maybe? But the artist had loaded the stem with thorns. The meaning of Chase’s ink was lost on her. The black rose and the thorns gave her two distinct impressions, two very different messages.

  She’d never dared to ask him why the fingers of his left hand were bent at odd angles.

  “How
did you hurt your hand?”

  “One of my friends in prison shoved it into a press.” His countenance was devoid of expression as he gave her the bare bones summary of how he’d been injured.

  A billion questions raged for utterance. “Why did your so-called friend do that to you?”

  “Convicts don’t like ex-police officers very much.”

  She didn’t suppose they did. “Does it still hurt?”

  He laughed. “Come on, Laurel. Am I supposed to admit if I’m in pain?”

  She smiled. “Oh, of course not. Men don’t let on when they’re hurting, do they?”

  “Most men don’t.”

  She rushed into dangerous territory. “Still... It had to hurt something awful to be accused of your wife’s murder.”

  He blinked. His expression hardened, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “The way she died... I could never do that to my worst enemy. Lately, I’ve started to suspect...” He turned his head away from her.

  “Suspect what?” Her stomach dropped to her toes.

  When he returned his gaze her way, the truth glowed from his eyes, two orbs suddenly dark and filled with hate.

  “I think Rand set me up so I’d ask him for help and then owe him.”

  “No, that’s too...unpredictable. How could he know it would work? If that was his plan, he failed. You weren’t charged with her murder, were you?”

  “No, but he knew I’d go after her killer. He knew I’d...” He beat his hand on the table.

  “Are you suggesting that Rand had her killed because he knew you’d be accused of her murder or he knew you’d go after her murderer? Either scenario is kind of far-fetched, don’t you think? Why would he go to such lengths? That’s a lot of work for...unguaranteed results.”

  His silence was his answer.

  Was Rand capable of something so awful? Had her ex-boyfriend had his half-brother’s wife killed for some stupid twisted reason? How evil was Rand? How far did the depths of his depravity go?