“Good for her.”
“No,” Conner corrected. “Good for you.”
“Me?” She blinked.
“It seems the town of Purdue is clamoring to get an up-close look at you. Especially after you humiliated Curtis and Hayden during your first hour on the job.”
“Why would the town of Purdue care? I was just doing the job they’re paying me to do.”
“Okay, so maybe not the whole town,” Conner relented. “But the movers and shakers wish to make your acquaintance.”
Emma laughed. “And they sent you as their emissary?”
Conner saluted. “Sheriff and chief errand boy.”
She cocked her head. “You don’t impress me as the kind of man who would be anyone’s errand boy.”
“Maybe not. But I answer to the mayor and the town council.” There was just enough truth in the statement to make it sound legit. At least he hoped so.
“So, when is this party?”
Conner checked his watch. “Starts in about fifteen minutes.”
“Tonight?”
“Nine o’clock at Stella’s.”
“This is nuts,” she scoffed. “I’m practically dead on my feet. And who or what is Stella’s?”
“She owns the restaurant on Rawlings Street. Whenever there is something that needs discussing, it’s discussed at Stella’s.”
“How quaint,” she sighed. “Do I also vote and pay my water bill at Stella’s?”
“If you want to,” Conner answered. “So, what do you say? I’ll run you by there; you can meet the most influential men in Purdue. Have some coffee and a slice of mud pie. I’ll have you home by eleven.”
“What about women?”
“I haven’t been seeing anyone on a regular basis.”
“Not you!” she groaned. “Your personal life is of no interest to me. I was simply asking if there are any influential women in Purdue?”
“Why?”
“Because I think having a female point of view in local matters is in keeping with the democratic principles of our society.”
Conner grinned, leaning forward. “I agree. But what I was asking is why my personal life is of no interest to you?”
She was flustered. He could tell by the way her lashes fluttered before she lowered her eyes. “I was just letting you know our boundaries.”
“I got that part. I’m just asking why we need boundaries before we actually get to know one another.”
“What is it with you?” Hostility flashed in her eyes. “Do you think that just because you have a decent build and a relatively attractive face that all women should fall at your feet?”
“It has been known to happen,” Conner teased. Her annoyance was amusing him. “But to answer your original question, there is one woman in Purdue with some pretty hefty influence.”
“Who is that?”
“Renae Burke,” Conner answered. “Her husband is Maddison Burke, Mayor of Purdue and soon-to-be announced candidate for the U.S. Senate. Renae is damned determined to get him there, too.”
“Maddison Burke is running for the Senate?”
“You know Burke?” Conner asked.
“Just from history,” she answered, though her voice was softer.
Sucking in a deep breath, holding it, then expelling it slowly, Conner stroked the shadow of stubble on his chin. “His greatest claim to fame may always be his association with the assassination of the president.”
“Does he talk about it?”
“No! No one in Purdue ever talks about it. Most folks are happy to forget that the President and our governor were gunned down within the city limits.”
“But that was more than twenty years ago.”
“It’s still an open wound,” Conner explained. “On the anniversary of the assassinations Purdue always gets a sound bite and an unpleasant reminder of our infamy. We’d prefer to be known for our great oranges and cane sugar.”
“We don’t always get what we want.”
He wasn’t sure if it was the philosophical lilt of her voice, or simply that her posture was less combative. At any rate, he detected a definite change in the woman seated behind the desk.
“So, are you game to give the good people of Purdue a few minutes of your time? Or are you going to send me back empty-handed?”
Retrieving her jacket from the back of her chair, Emma stood and said, “Sure, but a very, very few minutes.”
“Good, Hayden would have been really pissed if you’d have slammed him twice in the same day.” He rose from his seat and followed her out of the office.
“Hayden Blackwell?” she asked as she pulled the door closed behind them.
“He’s on the town council in addition to being our reigning D.A.”
“And Judge Crandall?”
Conner smiled and placed a hand at the small of her back. His smile widened when he felt the soft curve of her spine beneath his touch. “He’s the head of the town council.”
“Quaint,” he heard her mumble as they took the elevator to the first floor.
“Then there’s Wayne.”
“The bailiff?”
“By day,” Conner explained. “On the second Tuesday of every month he’s the Council Secretary.”
“Incestuous little town you have here, Sheriff.”
“We try.”
* * *
Stella’s turned out to be a glorified coffee shop. The front façade was a picture window with the daily specials painted in bright turquoise lettering. There was a smaller sign hanging from the knob that read, CLOSED FOR A PRIVATE PARTY AT NINE O’CLOCK.
Emma thought the placed smelled a lot like the courthouse—coffee, cigarettes, and bacon, all stale.
Animated conversations stopped abruptly as they entered, only adding fuel to the fire of anticipation burning in her stomach. Still, Emma was able to muster enough confidence to meet the dozen or so pairs of curious eyes pointed in her direction.
“Nice work, Sheriff,” Judge Crandall said. “So glad you could drop by, Miss McKinley.”
Crandall offered a personable smile along with the hand he held out in her direction. She smelled the faint scent of woodsy cologne and wished she would have taken time to freshen her appearance. In a rare display of self-consciousness, Emma smoothed her hair with her fingers.
“Nice to see you again, Your Honor.”
“I was quite impressed with your skills, young lady.”
“Thank you.” Emma felt a strange heat on her back. It took a few seconds for her to decipher the cause. It was Conner Kavanaugh. The man was behind her, to the left, his hand resting just at the slope of her hip. She could feel the strength in his hand and her mind flashed an instant image of sculpted muscle and broad shoulders.
“Miss McKinley, I’m Maddison Burke.”
“Mr. Mayor.” She greeted the man with polite coolness.
He preened at her recognition as his dark eyes roamed over her face. Emma held her breath, scared that he might recognize her, sadistically hoping that he would.
“I can see Kavanaugh filled you in,” the mayor said.
“Yes,” she murmured. “The sheriff certainly doesn’t seem to suffer from shyness.” She discreetly shoved his hand off her hip.
Maddison crooked his elbow in invitation, and Emma let him lead her to a semicircle of expectant faces. Emma was amazed. They seemed to all be dressed alike. Like a Stepford Wife Town Council. Or like the uniforms she’d been forced to endure during her tenure at the St. Francis Academy.
Maddison dipped his salt and pepper head with each introduction. His square-tipped fingers never left her arm. “—is Kenny Simms.”
“Mr. Simms,” Emma repeated, adding his name to the mental tally in her head. Simms, transparent red hair, sour expression, didn’t offer his hand.
“Miss,” he managed, though she got the impression that even that civility grated on the stumpy little man. One of the things that made her a good attorney was her ability to read people. Simms’s dislik
e was duly noted as she moved on to the next introduction.
When he was finished, Maddison asked, “So what do you think of our little town council here, Miss McKinley?”
“Very nice,” she evaded. “I’m still confused as to why I was summoned here this evening.”
Maddison’s eyebrows arched exaggeratedly. “Summoned?” he parroted, adjusting the knot in his designer tie. “Why, we were just anxious to get to meet you. Heard you made quite an impression on Judge Crandall today.”
“I was only doing what Purdue hired me to do.”
Maddison’s smile looked pained…no…forced. “And your efforts resulted in a young drug dealer getting off to sell more drugs in my town.”
“The system did that, Mr. Mayor, not me.”
Maddison gave her a patronizing look. “If you’re as good as I hear, we can expect our jail to be empty come November.”
“Election time?” Emma asked, careful to keep the derision out of her tone.
“I see you are very well informed.”
It wasn’t a compliment. That was evident by the narrowing of his eyes and the slight increase of pressure on her arm.
“I try to keep pace.”
“Maddison, dear?” A cultured female voice wafted above the small crowd.
Emma turned and watched as a billow of beige silk floated in her direction. The woman’s appearance screamed money and social breeding. It was everywhere—from the elegant arrangement of the soft hair twisted into a full chignon, to the tips of Italian leather pumps that perfectly matched her winter-white slacks.
“Evening, dear,” the mayor said as he placed a kiss on the cheek she presented.
Emma smiled and tasted the vapor trail of the other woman’s perfume. Clear, green eyes regarded her as the woman placed a heavily jeweled hand against the side of Maddison’s face.
She disengaged herself from her husband and took a step toward Emma. “I’m Renae Burke,” she announced, bending her wrist as she extended it.
Emma wasn’t about to kiss her ring. She was amazed that Renae didn’t look more than a minute older than she had at the time of the assassination.
“Emma McKinley.”
Renae’s smile was remote and reserved. “I’m so glad I was able to drop in while you were here.”
Something told Emma this wasn’t an accidental encounter. She would bet every last penny of her settlement that Renae Burke didn’t rely on accidents.
“I was having dinner with a friend and managed to slip away just in the nick of time.”
A bottle of beer appeared in Emma’s hand. The mayor’s wife glanced down at it with open disdain.
“Emma is partial to beer,” Conner explained.
There was something way too familiar in the way he had said that. Emma felt her ire begin to rise.
“Ms. McKinley,” she corrected in a loud whisper. “And I’m not particularly thirsty right now.” She shoved the beer into the general vicinity of his chest. Her annoyance grew when he refused to take it. Instead, Conner just stood there with her knuckles against his rock-solid body.
Quelling the urge to yank open his waistband and pour the cold beer down his pants, Emma pulled her arm back.
“You about ready to head out?” Conner asked.
Renae and Maddison shared startled expressions. Renae spoke up. “You can’t leave so early, dear.”
“I’m sorry. I know it is early, but I’ve had a long day and tomorrow promises to be just as long.”
“I told you we should have planned something for the weekend,” Renae scolded her husband.
“We still can,” Maddison gave Emma an expectant look. “If you’re free on Saturday, perhaps we can put together a little something out at our home.”
“I’ll have to check my calendar,” Emma replied sweetly. She swallowed her smile when she heard the offended catch of air from Renae. It was apparent that the First Lady of Purdue wasn’t accustomed to being told ‘perhaps’. So what? “It was a pleasure to meet you both.”
A few minutes later Conner said, “That wasn’t exactly the way to make friends in high places.”
He held the door for her as she climbed into his SUV. “You’re assuming I want friends in high places,” she countered.
He got into the car and started the engine. “Renae Burke is a powerful, willful woman,” he warned.
Emma angled herself in the seat and looked at his profile. She had to admit he was attractive in an appealingly rugged sort of way.
“You sound like you don’t care much for the mayor’s wife.”
The fabric of his khaki shirt drew taut against his chest when he shrugged. Emma could easily make out the washboard-tight muscle of his flat stomach. She looked away, not wanting her mind to go down that path. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“She keeps Maddison in line.”
“Does he need it?”
“Sometimes,” Conner admitted with a wry smile. “He’s got the ambition, but Renae has most of the smarts. Maddison’s mostly drive and ego.” Conner stopped for a red light next to her office, then turned and asked, “Sure you have to get right home?”
Emma breathed in irritation. “I am not interested, Sheriff.”
His eyes flashed with sudden realization. “Are you…I mean, you do like men, right?”
Emma couldn’t stop the laughter. “I get it. Any woman not interested in you must be a lesbian, right? And you said Maddison had an ego. Thanks for an interesting evening.” Emma jumped from the SUV and hustled to her car. Conner didn’t get the last word, but he did get the last sound. His tires squealed as he pulled out into traffic.
* * *
The house she had bought on an earlier trip to Purdue was set back from the main road. The driveway was guarded by massive live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. A string of muttered curses eased out of her as she made her way down the drive. “Note to self: leave a light on,” she grumbled in the thick and unfamiliar blackness.
A bell chimed when she left the car door open in order to retrieve mail from the box. “Damn it!” she cried, bringing her cut knuckle to her lips. She made two more notes to herself—replace the mailbox and update tetanus shot.
She parked in front of her house. Shadows of pale moonlight danced across the porch as she cautiously navigated each step. With the assortment of mail tucked under her arm, Emma was about to put her key in the lock when she felt something beneath her foot.
Opening the door, she ferreted out the light switch just inside and to the left. Still unsure of which switch controlled what, she flipped all three switches. Yellowish light spilled from every direction. It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust as she tossed the mail in on the foyer table then went back out to retrieve whatever she had stepped on in the darkness.
Reaching down, she scraped a smashed white lily off the wooden planks and lifted it into the light.
The petals were limp and partially dislodged from the bud. The stem felt warm and sticky. It was fractured in several places from where she had stepped on it. But that wasn’t the disturbing aspect of the single blossom.
Emma looked at her palm, feeling panic well inside her. She let out a scream when she realized what she was holding.
The warm stickiness from the stem had stained her hand with blood.
CHAPTER FOUR
Bloody blossom in hand, she quickly went inside, bolting the door on the way. She wasn’t normally fearful of being alone, but then again, she’d never been sent a bloody flower before. She made another mental note to have an alarm system with motion detectors and video installed ASAP.
Her list of suspects was long. It could have been a member of the town council, though that they would get to her place before she did seemed unlikely; the blood was still fresh. So her second, and most likely, suspect was Skeeter. Assuming Jeanine had told him about the job offer, he’d sounded like the kind of guy who’d pull off something so juvenile. If Skeeter was going to be a problem, better to nip it in the bud—no pun intended—no
w rather than later. She was pissed. The last thing she needed was some looney ex-boyfriend creeping around. Time to let the sheriff do his job. Her housekeeper might be afraid of Skeeter but she sure as hell wasn’t. After New York, there was no way she was going to let someone else dictate any aspect of her life.
She pulled out her cell and dialed 9-1-1.
“What is your emergency?” an operator asked in a calm tone.
“This is Emma McKinley. I need the sheriff at 4315 Carlyle Drive.”
“For what purpose?”
“I’ve been threatened.”
“I’ll send a deputy out now.”
“I don’t want a deputy,” Emma argued. “I want the sheriff. He knows me.” Or thinks he does. That part didn’t matter. She wanted to skip the underlings and go straight to the top. In the long run, she figured it would be more expedient. Conner may be hitting on her but she could and would use that to her advantage.
“Hold the line please.”
She came back on in a nano-second. “Sheriff Kavanaugh is on his way. Do you need to stay on the line with me until he arrives?”
“No, thank you.”
As she was hanging up the phone she heard the sound of sirens in the distance. But as they grew closer, Emma started to question the intelligence of calling the sheriff for help. After all, the flower could just be a prank. Then she’d look like a fool. For some reason she wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge, she didn’t want him thinking of her as foolish.
By the time he pulled his SUV behind her car in the driveway, she had calmed her nerves.
The SUV arrived in a spray of gravel and Conner got out in a single, agile motion, unholstering his gun as he approached.
“Put that away,” Emma chastised him. “Who are you going to shoot? Me?”
He smiled. “The thought did cross my mind. Dispatch said she had a frantic woman on the line demanding my presence. Did she get the address wrong?”
He stepped up onto the porch. She pointed to the drying blood on her brand new welcome mat. “I came home and found a lily soaked in blood on my porch.”
“Well, you aren’t exactly getting a reputation for your friendliness,” he said as he knelt by the stained rug. “Sure looks like blood,” he concluded.
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