by Sandra Brown
“Cunt,” he muttered and shot his drink.
His cell phone rang.
He didn’t recognize the number. But he never knew when a call would be about something he needed or wanted to know. Like maybe Burnet had driven his pickup into a tree on his way home, and it had burst into flames, roasting him alive.
He answered. “Dyle.”
A man identified himself as a deputy sheriff. “I worked for your daddy, and you after him. You may not remember me, though. I was low on the totem pole.”
Still are, Rusty thought. His name had rung no bells. He snarled, “It’s after hours, Deputy.”
“I’m aware, sir.”
“So this had better be damned important.”
“It came down through the pipeline that if Dwayne Hawkins was caught engaging in dogfighting again you wanted to hear about it ASAP.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, two of our vice guys got one of his cronies to rat him out. They busted Hawkins tonight.”
Rusty smiled as he poured himself a refill. “Hawkins popped off at me a few nights ago, and I looked forward to teaching him a lesson in manners. I knew it wouldn’t take too long for him to transgress, but I didn’t expect it would be this soon.”
“Hope you don’t mind me calling you this late.”
“Not at all, not at all. I’m obliged. What’s your name again?”
The deputy stated it proudly, then went on to describe the arrest. “Hawkins attempted to make a run for it. Splashed through the bayou that runs behind his place, got stuck in the mud. That’s how they caught him.”
Rusty was told that Hawkins had put up a fight, assaulting one of the deputies so viciously, he’d broken his finger. “Didn’t earn him any favors in this department, let me tell you.”
Rusty had listened to the detailed account without interruption, drumming his fingers on the stuffed arm of his chair. When he failed to respond after several moments of silence had elapsed, the deputy said, “Mr. Dyle? You still there?”
“I’m here. Listen, I’d rather Hawkins not be booked until I read the arrest report and look into the case myself, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Tell the deputies who brought him—”
“One’s at the ER getting his broke finger set.”
“The point is, keep Hawkins isolated. Let him simmer some of that meanness out. I’ll come over first thing in the morning.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Dyle.”
“I owe you a favor, Deputy.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”
“Sir?”
“You and I never had this conversation. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I trust you do.”
Rusty clicked off. Revived and feeling much better about the big picture, he threw back his drink and unzipped his pants. He was already hard.
Chapter 23
Lisa was in her home office, checking emails and reviewing her schedule for the day, when her housekeeper called to her from the kitchen, “Breakfast is almost ready, Mrs. Bishop. Can I make you a cappuccino?”
“Please. I’ll be right there.”
Helena had worked for Wallace long before his marriage to Lisa. She was an invaluable asset. She ran the household, leaving Lisa free to oversee the management of the company that Wallace had founded and had left in her charge of in his will.
Shortly after relocating herself and Arden to Dallas, she’d been hired by the commercial real estate firm where Wallace Bishop was CEO. Initially Lisa had been an assistant to an assistant, a glorified gofer. But she was a quick study and ambitious. Recognizing those qualities, Wallace had promoted her to work on an elite team personally overseen by him.
Their coworker relationship had led to romance.
He was fifteen years her senior but had never been married. He had welcomed taking on Arden as a dependent. However, he had stipulated that he didn’t want other children. Lisa had accepted that condition, actually with relief. Had Wallace desired a child of his own, she would have reproduced, but forgoing motherhood hadn’t been a sacrifice.
After they married, he’d encouraged her to re-enroll in college and earn her degree, a pursuit she’d regretted having to suspend when she became Arden’s guardian. Wallace had made it easier for her by assuming some of her parental responsibilities. Over the course of those years when he was driving carpool and attending school events with Arden, she and Wallace had grown very fond of each other. They’d remained close until his death. In his will, he’d been as generous to her as he would have been to a progeny born of him.
Lisa often acknowledged that Wallace Bishop was the soundest decision she had ever made. She believed he would feel the same of her, and would be proud of how she had carried on after his death. The company continued to thrive under her leadership.
Now, she double-checked her day planner, then sorted through the stack of snail mail she hadn’t gotten to yesterday. There were the usual invitations and junk, but one envelope caught her eye.
The stationery was a high-quality stock in dove gray. The return address was engraved on the back of the envelope, but it had been addressed by hand. To Arden.
“Mrs. Bishop?” Helena called.
“Coming.”
Thoughtfully, Lisa tapped the envelope against her palm. Then, yielding to temptation before her conscience got the better of her, she opened it.
Arden,
Word reached me today about the loss of the baby. It came to me through channels too intricate to go into here, and how I learned of it doesn’t matter. What does matter, greatly, is that I know how crushing this must have been for you. I wish you had notified me when it happened. I would have provided whatever consolation and support I possibly could, as inadequate as it would have been.
I realize I’m late to the dance, but is there anything I can do for you now? Before leaving Houston, you made it clear that you wanted to make a clean break. I understood and accepted your reasoning then, and I do now. But please know that I’m here for you if you ever feel the need to talk about it.
Jacob
P.S. I mailed this to your sister’s address because it was the only one I had.
“I didn’t want it to get cold.”
Lisa turned and smiled at Helena, who stood in the open doorway holding a steaming, frothy cup of cappuccino. “Thank you.” She laid the envelope aside, went over, and took the cappuccino. “I’ve had a sudden change of plans for the day, Helena. I’m afraid I’ll have to forgo breakfast.”
“Nothing bad, I hope.”
“No, not at all. But I’ll need the company jet today. Can you make that call for me while I cancel some appointments?”
“Of course. What’s your destination?”
“Houston Hobby.”
Helena left her.
Lisa sipped her cappuccino as she returned to her desk and reread the heart-stirring letter to Arden from one Jacob Greene.
Chapter 24
Shee-ut.”
“Good morning, Dwayne,” Rusty said cheerfully. “How’s life treatin’ you?”
Hunkered in the corner of his cot with his back against the wall, the Hawkins miscreant glared at Rusty. Rusty turned to the deputy who’d escorted him to the cell. “Leave us.”
The deputy shot Hawkins a warning look, then turned away and ambled back toward his desk.
Rusty waved his hand in front of his nose. “I can smell you from here, Dwayne. Must be that lake water you got bogged down in last night while you were trying to evade arrest. Then you assaulted a peace officer. My, my.”
“I ain’t talking without a lawyer.”
“Really? Gee, that’s too bad. Because I think you would like hearing what I’ve come to discuss.”
“Whut could you have to say that I’d want to hear?”
“Before we get to that, your disposition needs some readjustment.”
“Whut’s that mean?”
Rusty dropped his amiable grin. “It means, get over here and talk to me with respect, or I’ll bring in someone to work you over good, and claim he was protecting me. When he’s done with you, you’ll be peeing blood and farting out your ears.”
Hawkins mulled it over, then rolled off the cot and slunk over to the bars.
“That’s better,” Rusty said.
“Everybody says you’re crooked as your ol’ man.”
“Do they?” Rusty chuckled. “Well, they’re wrong. He was a pussycat compared to me. Which works to your advantage, Dwayne.”
“Yeah? I ain’t seein’ it.”
“You and I can work together to our mutual benefit.”
Dwayne squinted at him with wary interest. “Doin’ whut?”
“See what happens when you’re courteous and cooperative? We’re making progress already.”
Arden had been at the courthouse when it opened for the day. After consulting the deputy manning the information desk in the lobby, she’d been directed to the second floor and the Sheriff’s Office’s Crimes Against Persons division. There, she’d made her request to one of the detectives, filled out the necessary forms, paid the nominal fee, and then had been instructed to return to the lobby and wait.
That had been almost an hour ago. She couldn’t imagine why it was taking so long. Unless a certain amount of time was required to locate the investigation reports on twenty-year-old crimes.
Finally, the detective with whom she’d dealt arrived with a sealed manila envelope and passed it to her. “Here you go. Sorry it took so long. I had to take a call.”
“You’ve been very helpful. Thank you.” She tucked the envelope under her arm and turned to go.
“Funny. We recently had somebody else request those particular reports.”
Arden stopped and came slowly around. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to think it was funny. “Oh?”
“I guess you moving back here kindled interest in these two investigations.”
This wasn’t welcome news, but she smiled as though unbothered by it. “Who besides me would be interested? Not a producer from one of those unsolved mystery TV shows, I hope.”
He laughed. “Naw. Local boy. Ledge Burnet’s his name. He was in here only a few days ago, asking for the same files.”
“Did he say why?”
“Ledge isn’t much of a talker, keeps his business to hisself.”
But he was steeped in hers.
After his brief conversation with Dwayne Hawkins, Rusty passed the desk where the jailer was playing poker on his iPad. Rusty thanked him for letting him in, then left the cell block and took the stairs in favor of the creaky and notoriously slow elevator. He was practically jogging his way down. The day was young, and he was feeling very upbeat about it.
That was, until he saw Arden Maxwell in the lobby chatting with one of the SO’s detectives.
That scenario stopped short Rusty’s fleet-footed tread.
He’d seen Arden from a distance, but never this close. Sizing her up, he’d rate her an eight and a half.
He lurked there on the staircase until she concluded her conversation with the detective and left, taking an official-looking envelope with her. As the detective was on his way back up to his department, he met Rusty on the stairs.
“Morning, Mr. Dyle.”
“Morning.” He tipped his head toward the main doors. “Wasn’t that Arden Maxwell you were talking to?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What was she doing here?”
As the detective explained the nature of her errand, Rusty’s lightheartedness of moments ago began to deflate. The detective must have sensed his displeasure.
He said, “There weren’t any restrictions placed on those reports, Mr. Dyle.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” To make a big to-do would only call attention to his interest. “I’m just wondering why she would want them at this late date. Did she say?”
“No, but I’d guess because of her daddy’s alleged involvement in both cases.”
“That’s probably it. She was just a kid when all that happened. It’s understandable, her wanting to learn what she can.” He tapped the detective on his sleeve. “Thanks for seeing to her. Good public relations.”
He tried to appear unhurried as he continued down the stairs. He exited the building and made his way along the sidewalk to the parking space reserved for him in the row nearest to the building. Arden was moving along the farthest row of the parking lot.
Wanting to catch her before she left, he quickly got into his car and drove it over to where she was unlocking the driver’s door of a blue sedan. As he pulled up behind her car, she came around quickly.
Immediately, Rusty discerned two things about her. One, maybe she deserved a nine for the wreath of hair. It looked like she’d just gotten laid.
Two, his charm would be wasted on her. Her posture was rigid, and her expression was bitchy.
He didn’t let that deter him, however. He enjoyed a challenge.
He put his car in park and got out.
“Ms. Maxwell?”
Arden had recognized the sound of the engine even before she saw the car. Her heart was thudding. Her mouth had gone dry. Trying to keep her breathing under control, she bobbed her head in silent acknowledgment.
“Hi, my name is Rusty Dyle.”
Rusty Dyle? The district attorney. With whom Ledge had a long-standing grudge. Ledge’s description of him had been inflammatory, but regardless of that, she would have instantly mistrusted the man’s toothy smile. Her thoughts were rioting, but she replied to his greeting with as much composure as she could muster.
“How do you do?”
He walked toward her and extended his right hand. She was loath to touch him but shook his hand. Not to do so would have alerted him to her aversion.
He said, “I’d heard you were living here again.”
“How did you recognize me?”
“Actually, I didn’t. As I was leaving the building, the detective you talked to pointed you out and told me who you were. Anyhow, it’s a pleasure to welcome you back to Penton.”
“Thank you.”
“Everybody treating you decent?”
“I can’t complain.”
“Good to know.” He looked around as though assessing the town square. “Things haven’t changed all that much since you and your sister moved away.”
“Some things have changed quite a lot.”
He came back around to her and flashed a grin. “Well, we did finally get a new fire station. And a Taco Bell.”
She was expected to smile; she did so vapidly.
“Let’s see, what year was that?” he said. “When you left, I mean.”
“Two thousand.”
“That long? Geez. That was the year I graduated high school. I guess things have changed. I’m district attorney now.”
“I remember Sheriff Dyle.”
He placed his hand over his heart. “My dear ol’ dad. He died a while back.”
“He sticks in my memory because he questioned my sister and me after our father disappeared.”
“Oh, hell. Sorry about that. That whole business.”
He shook his head with regret. Seeming regret. Arden didn’t buy it.
He continued. “Daddy would’ve hated bothering you girls at such a tough time. But, you know, line of duty.”
“Of course.”
“Ever hear anything about what happened to Joe?”
“Nothing.”
“Has he been declared dead yet?”
“Years ago.”
“Huh. I’d lost track.”
He was lying about that, too, and she couldn’t wait to get away from him. “If you’ll excuse me, I really need to—”
“They take care of you in there?” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder toward the building, then pointed at the envelope she carried. “Get what you came for?”
“Yes.”
“Anyt
hing I can do to assist?”
“No, thank you.”
“Well, if you think of something…” He reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, withdrew a business card, and passed it to her. “At your service. Anytime.”
Arden thanked him with a nod and slid the card into her handbag. “Now, I really must go.”
“Sure, sure, sorry to have detained you. I just wanted to say hi and introduce myself. You have a good day now.”
Congenial smile in place, he went back to his car and got in. He gave her a little wave as he drove away.
Arden got into her car, tossed the envelope containing the investigation reports onto the passenger seat, then gripped the steering wheel with both hands, and laid her forehead on the backs of them. “Lost track?” Hardly.
As she’d told Ledge last night, she wanted answers.
She now had one. The individual routinely driving past her house was District Attorney Rusty Dyle.
Arden’s initial impulse was to alert Ledge to her discovery. But, considering the hostility with which they’d parted the night before, she decided against calling him.
She must speak with Lisa, however. She needed to dismiss the remote possibility that their father was alive and well and keeping tabs on them.
Yesterday, Arden had been hesitant to bring up her childish dream that he would one day come back, afraid that Lisa would either chide or pity her for clinging to such an implausibility.
Learning that Lisa had secretly shared that same vain hope had forged a stronger bond between them. It had been freeing for Arden to see proof that Lisa, the indomitable one, wasn’t totally without vulnerability. She had left Lisa’s office feeling that they had been equalized. The difference in their ages, all the differences between them, had been spanned by a common heartbreak.
But did she wish for Lisa to know that she had identified the district attorney as her “stalker”? Lisa would want to act on it immediately, notify the authorities, assemble the militia.