The Southern Comfort Prequel Trilogy Box Set

by Lisa Clark O'Neill

  “You’re telling me,” the man said slowly “that someone tried to run over my sister? In broad daylight? On a city street? And you didn’t think that warranted a phone call?”

  “No, I thought that warranted a personal visit, which is why I cancelled my afternoon appointments and drove to the airport. We need to talk,” Jack said, and then glanced around the bustling baggage claim area. “But preferably not here in public.”

  A hand wrapped around his forearm, and Jack looked down to see Connie’s long nails red against his white sleeve. Her face when he looked up was drained of all color. “Is she okay? Caitlin’s okay?”

  “She’s shaken and a little banged up,” he said “but yes, she’s okay. Physically, at any rate.”

  “She has to be terrified,” Lance said, running a hand through his thinning brown hair.

  “More pissed off, actually.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s safe.”

  Cavanaugh’s blue eyes narrowed, and Jack saw another reflection of Caitlin. They had the same You’re pushing your luck, buddy expression.

  “Safe,” Jack repeated. “With my brother, who’s an agent with the FBI. I’d rather not say where at the moment.”

  “Apparently I have to remind you that I’m her brother,” the man said in a low tone “and that I hired you.”

  “To look out for your sister. Legally, but you also asked me to see to her physical wellbeing until you could get here.”

  “At the risk of pointing out the obvious,” he swept his arms out to the side “I’m here.”

  “And understandably upset. As much as I know you’d like to shoot the messenger, I’m asking you to trust me when I tell you that Caitlin is safe, but that I’d prefer not to go into details when we’re standing in the middle of the airport. And quite frankly, I think that you need a chance to digest everything before she sees you. She’s holding it together, but that’s always tougher to do when we see our loved ones visibly upset. It’ll be better for her if you’re steady.”

  The man’s throat worked as he stared Jack down, but he finally nodded. “Okay. Okay, I get it. We’ll talk, and then you’ll tell me where I can find my sister.”

  “There’s a new diner,” Jack continued. “On the way back to town. We could grab some coffee.” He gave them the name.

  “My phone is about dead. Can you pull up the address?” Lance said to Connie before shaking his head. “Shoot. I forgot yours was stolen. I don’t guess that throw away has GPS.”

  “You can follow me,” Jack said, but Connie waved him off.

  “I know where it is.” Her voice was stretched taut as a wire. “We’ll meet you.”

  Jack nodded. Fifteen minutes later, they were sliding into opposite sides of a booth in the mostly empty diner. The dinner rush hadn’t yet started. The smell of grilling meat scented the air, and Jack’s stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten lunch.

  At least Jesse had brought something for Caitlin. His brother hadn’t pressed him too hard for details, accepting Jack’s I need your help for a couple hours at face value. Luckily Jesse had taken some time off to finish up the nursery, given that Jillian was due any day now. But Jack figured he’d have some explaining to do regarding why he hadn’t simply left Caitlin at his office, with instructions to the security guard to keep an eye out.

  The problem was he was having a difficult time answering that one himself.

  “Now.” Lance rested his forearms on the table after they’d ordered coffee for the two of them, and ginger ale for Connie. She claimed to be feeling nauseated. “You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

  Jack did, including what he knew about the murder of Ryan Fasteland. Lance’s visible disbelief turned to rage when Jack relayed Caitlin’s assertion that she thought it was the dead man’s vehicle that had been used in the attempt to run her over.

  “That bitch,” he said. “That crazy bitch. I told Caitlin she was dangerous. Told the Atlanta PD too, for all the good it did.”

  “Back up,” Jack said. “You talked to the cops in Atlanta. About Lydia Fasteland?”

  “You promised Caitlin you’d stay out of it,” Connie reminded her fiancé in tones of disbelief.

  “Yeah well, I lied. Yes,” he addressed Jack. “There’s this one cop, a retired detective. Caitlin uses him as a consultant or whatever when she needs to fact check police procedure for one of her books. I told her to talk to him, if nothing else, but she was embarrassed. Didn’t want to seem like she was blowing things out of proportion, or admit that she was caught up in a romantic triangle. I told her I’d let her handle it, but…” he shrugged. “I’m her big brother.”

  And then he looked at Connie, whose expression had turned stony. “I know you’re mad at me for not telling you, but I didn’t want to put you in the middle.”

  “Do you have any idea whether he went to any active duty cops with the information?”

  “I don’t think so,” Lance said. “He just said he would keep an eye out for her, off the record. I didn’t want it getting back to Caitlin, because she tends to go even further in the opposite direction when she’s pushed.”

  Jack considered the woman who’d spit at him earlier. “I can believe that. I’m going to need that detective’s name. Retired or not, his verification of your story will still hold weight. I can pretty much guarantee the cops here are going to be looking to finger Caitlin for Fasteland’s murder as well, given the similarities. It will help to show a history of harassment, because the fact that she didn’t go to the police with it makes her claim suspect. You think this guy will be willing to cooperate?”

  “He’s been helping Caitlin out for a couple years now, so yeah. He’s got a soft spot.”

  “I have to wonder why he didn’t try to contact her when Fasteland was murdered.”

  “That I don’t know.” Lance sipped at the steaming coffee the waitress had delivered moments ago, wincing as he did so. “Maybe he thought it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.” But he stared at Jack over the rim of his mug. “You said the cops here are going to try to connect Caitlin to his murder. But since we both know she didn’t do that – or at least I’m assuming, from the things you’ve said, that we’re on the same page there. Anyway, since Caitlin didn’t kill Ryan, but the murders are pretty damn similar? That can’t be a coincidence. Especially not with Ryan’s estranged wife in town.”

  “Allegedly in town.”

  Lance waved a hand. “Bunch of legal bullshit. Who else would leave a note like that for Caitlin, try to run her down with Fasteland’s own car?”

  “Wait,” Connie said. “You’re saying that you think Ryan’s wife had something to do with… with the man who attacked Caitlin?”

  “It makes more sense than some random guy drugging her drink at the bar and following her home for shits and giggles. Not that that stuff doesn’t happen, but how did she manage to get all the way home? I did some research on the so-called date rape drugs when I was waiting for my plane. They generally take effect within minutes. That’s why most people who use them under those circumstances have a van or something waiting, and offer to help the victim outside the bar for some ‘fresh air.’ There are a few that can take longer, but every person handles that stuff differently. Anyway, how’d he end up back at Caitlin’s? Follow her, and hope that she didn’t get in a wreck? Unless he knew where she lived already.”

  “Because Lydia Fasteland was his accomplice,” Jack said.

  “It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Lance divided a look between him and Connie. “Maybe she hired him to make it look like someone broke in, to take the suspicion off of her.”

  “Except it didn’t look like someone broke in,” Jack countered, reminding him of the wine glasses, and the fact that there hadn’t been any signs of forced entry, or much of a struggle. He’d determined that for himself the other night after he’d examined the scene. “It looked like she had a date.”

  That gave Lance pause. “Actually, that mak
es more sense. Fasteland’s wife would rather Caitlin be painted as a loose woman, right? Rather than a totally innocent victim? People have less sympathy for women who pick up the wrong guy in a bar than they do for women who are murdered by a stranger breaking into their home.”

  It did make a sick sort of sense. And wasn’t too far off from some of the possibilities Jack had been entertaining.

  Lance cleared his throat. “You’re, uh, sure he didn’t, you know… touch her?”

  “As her attorney, I have a copy of the medical report.” Jack hesitated. “But ethically speaking, I don’t think it’s my place to discuss the results with you. That should come from Caitlin.”

  “He didn’t.” Connie grabbed Lance’s arm, drawing his attention to her. “He didn’t touch her. Or not… much, anyway. She told me.” Connie shot a challenging look at Jack before turning back toward her fiancé. “Caitlin told me. That bastard didn’t rape her. He died before he could do that, at least. Excuse me. I don’t feel well.”

  Connie slid from the booth, grabbing her purse. Jack watched her go, and then met Lance’s concerned gaze across the table.

  “This is hard on her,” Lance said. “I mean obviously. But she’s been traveling a lot for the company, overseeing new accounts, and she wasn’t there for Caitlin during the whole Ryan Fasteland fiasco as much as she would have liked to be. And then Caitlin has been pretty… distant recently. Licking her wounds, I guess.” He ran his hands over his face. “Sometimes the dynamic among the three of us is challenging, given that I’m Caitlin’s brother and Connie’s fiancé, and Connie and Caitlin have been like sisters since we were all kids. Loyalties get blurred.”

  “You’re either a brave man or a crazy one.”

  “Probably a little of both. I never thought of Connie as anything but my kid sister’s friend until we were both at a medical conference a couple years ago – she was working for a different company then – and we had a few drinks and… well, you know how it goes. Look, I appreciate all that you’ve done on Caitlin’s behalf. But I’d like to talk to my sister now. In person.”

  “She’s at my house.”

  His light brown eyebrows shot skyward. “That’s surely not typical.”

  “I go to considerable lengths to keep my personal life as far separate from the clients I represent as possible, so no, it’s not. But this isn’t a typical case.”

  Lance studied him, his gaze shrewd. “And my sister isn’t a typical woman.”

  Jack would have to be a fool to misunderstand the man’s tone, and while he had considerable flaws, foolishness wasn’t one of them. Or not usually, anyway.

  “Sometimes the people I defend get death threats, but that’s mostly due to either public outcry or the relatives of whomever they’ve hurt seeking retribution. I’ve arranged for protective details before, in the form of private security, if I felt it was warranted. Never have I had a client nearly run over on her way to meet me for lunch, however. Especially not by someone who ostensibly shouldn’t have any bearing on the case. Never have I felt more certain of a client’s innocence, or more convinced that there is a great deal more to the story than what initially appeared. And never have I felt this sort of inappropriate and irresistible attraction.”

  Lance’s eyes widened, and Jack couldn’t blame the man for his surprise. Jack was pretty damn taken aback himself.

  “Are you telling me this to piss me off? Because I have to tell you, my sister’s recent track record with sleazeball men has about pushed me to my limit.”

  “I hope you’re not blaming her for that.”

  “What?” The other man drew back. “Of course I’m not.”

  “Good. I’m telling you this,” Jack admitted “because I plan to refund your retainer. Or at the very least transfer it to one of my associates, as I don’t feel it’s appropriate to continue as Caitlin’s attorney of record. I don’t want there to be any question of ethics should this case ever come to trial – which in my opinion is less likely with every attempt on her life. Not that I hope for any more of those, but at this point I think it would be foolish to assume that this Lydia Fasteland – if she is indeed involved – has any intention of quitting. That’s why I would like your permission to allow me to arrange for security for your sister.”

  The other man practically goggled. “You think I can’t look out for my own sister?”

  “I think that you don’t have a great degree of experience with the lengths homicidal and arguably unstable individuals will go to. Unfortunately, I do. And having that experience, I also have a list of reliable private security contractors in the area.”

  Lance was quiet for several seconds. “You know, I really want to fault you for… something here, but I can’t figure out exactly what.”

  “Being attracted to your sister? Stepping aside as her attorney due to the fact that I recognize both the depth and the inappropriateness of the attraction? Having more hair?”

  Lance barked out a surprised laugh. He started to respond, but Connie reappeared, walking toward the table, and he seemed to change his mind about what he’d been going to say. “Let me talk to Caitlin,” he said. “And see what she has to say.”

  “I’d prefer if you let me tell her that I’m recusing myself from her case.”

  The other man stared him down, and then nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “Sorry,” Connie said, looking only slightly better. “What did I miss?”

  “Plot twist,” Jack said and Lance only shook his head before taking her hand.

  “I’ll tell you in the car.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CAITLIN liked Jack’s brother well enough, even if she did find some of his questions a bit intrusive. She guessed it was the nature of his job, or natural curiosity, and really, she couldn’t fault him for that. She spent a lot of time studying human behavior herself, wondering what made people tick. It was the nature of both beasts perhaps – cops and writers. She suspected it was one reason she got along so well with Darius Presley, the retired detective who consulted on her novels.

  Caitlin sighed. She needed to contact Darius. She had several emails from him recently that she hadn’t opened. He knew that she sometimes fell off the map when she was writing, but if he heard about what happened from someone else, his feelings would be hurt.

  “I can’t help but notice,” Caitlin told Jesse as they sat in Jack’s office, waiting for his return. Jack texted his brother around thirty minutes ago, asking to meet him there. “That you’ve carefully avoided any inquiries into the crime for which I’ve retained Jack’s services.”

  Jesse looked up from where he was inspecting the contents of Jack’s wet bar. “If there’s something it’s my business to know, I figure Jack will tell me. We pretty much operate under a see, hear and speak no evil policy when it comes to professional matters. Saves a lot of headaches.”

  “Yet he called you to come… babysit me, for lack of a better term.”

  “Which tells me a couple things. One, he believes there is an imminent threat to your physical safety. Crap, did he hide the good whiskey again?”

  Caitlin waited while he shifted around several bottles. “What’s the other thing?” she finally said.

  “What? Oh. I think –”

  The phone clipped to his belt started to chime.

  He raised his finger to indicate a conversational pause. “My wife,” he explained. “Hi honey. Everything okay? You… seriously?” Jesse froze, looked at his phone, and then shot a panicked look toward Caitlin. “Okay. Okay, let’s just stay calm,” he said, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear while he grabbed a bottle of alcohol at random and twisted off the cap. “Yeah, I know you’re calm. I was talking to myself.” He took a long swallow before standing up. “How far apart are the contractions? Ten… ten minutes? Isn’t that a little close together? You… Jesus, Jillian. Why didn’t you call me sooner? Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. You’re right. You sit tight, okay? I’ll be there in ten minutes, tops. Just reme
mber your breathing and… find your happy place, or whatever it is you’re supposed to do. We’re having a baby. We’re having a baby,” Jesse repeated, and smiled at Caitlin, half joy, half terror. “Okay, I’m hanging up. See you in ten. And Jillian? I love you.”

  He clicked off and then looked around blankly for a couple of seconds, before finally pulling himself together.

  “Jack should be here in a few minutes,” Jesse said. “And I’m going to tell the security guard downstairs to keep an eye out. I –”

  Caitlin held up a hand. “Please. Say no more. I’m fine. Go be with your wife.” She took his arm and pushed him toward the door. “You’re having a baby.”

  “We are.” He smiled again, brilliantly. “Shit. Gotta go.”

  With that he was out the door, all but flying down the hall toward the stairs. Caitlin grinned, watching him go. She didn’t know him very well, and had never met his wife, but she’d sure enjoyed hearing the story of how they met – when she was the subject of his investigation. And the excitement of a baby’s birth was almost always contagious.

  Quite a counterpart to death, particularly violent death, which seemed to spread a pall over everyone and everything it touched. Although she was successful in putting it out of her mind for short bursts, Caitlin couldn’t quite forget the reason she was here in Jack’s office, bearing witness to his brother’s happy panic. A man had died. In her home.

  And she’d killed him.

  Part of her wanted to continue to rebel against the thought, but she had to accept it. What she couldn’t do, however, was blame herself for defending her own life.

  Caitlin sat down to wait for Jack, wishing she could remember what happened that night. Some might see it as a blessing, not being able to call those images to mind, but by now Caitlin realized that it had to be better than filling in the missing pieces with her imagination. Because with an imagination like hers, the pieces were both grim and terrifying.

  And now she had the threat of Ryan’s wife’s hostility and mental instability hanging over her again – only this time it seemed like she’d decided to act on that hostility. The image of the Hummer’s front grille hurtling at her was one she could bring to mind, and would probably appear there at random times, even when she didn’t want it to.