by LENA DIAZ,
“Because of the judge’s second condition.”
“Which is?”
“He thinks you’re a flight risk, based on your history. The only way he would grant bail under these circumstances is if you’re remanded into the custody of someone who will insure that you don’t disappear again.”
Visions of her aunt Freddie snarling at her and trading insults while she shoved a tray of food into her room and locked the door had Amber’s stomach clenching. “Let me guess. My aunt?”
“Nope. This person also has to be an officer of the court.”
“Officer of the court? Like a cop?”
“Exactly like a cop. Or a temporary deputy. That would work too.”
The grin on his face had her wary. “O...kay. Whatever that means. So, who’s my official babysitter?”
He grinned and held out his hand. “Happy to meet you. I’m temporary deputy and officer of the court, Dex Lassiter, your babysitter.”
* * *
DEX STEPPED OUT of the back of the limo in front of Buddy Johnson’s store—Swamp Buggy Outfitters—and waited for Amber to join him.
The deputy thing, though real, was mainly a gimmick to cover the judge if something happened. And Amber had warned Dex that the residents of Mystic Glades wouldn’t roll out a welcome mat, or canoe, or whatever for him if they found out he was law enforcement, even in a temporary capacity. So for now, his newfound role would remain a secret between the two of them.
She slid across the leather seat and stepped out beside him, anxiously glancing around at the small crowds of people standing around the wooden boardwalks up and down Mystic Glades’ Main Street, all of them watching Amber with a mixture of open hostility and suspicion.
“I think I may have been safer in jail.”
Dex put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side, enjoying the startled look she gave him, especially since she didn’t pull away. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
Her startled look turned to aggravation and she shoved his arm off her shoulders. “I can take care of myself. Have been for quite a while now.” She started to turn away, but he grabbed her hand and refused to let it go.
“Are you forgetting something? The conditions of your release?”
Her shoulders slumped and she quit trying to walk away. “Fine. Why are we here?” She nodded toward the store, where Buddy was now standing in the open front doorway.
A raindrop spattered onto his jacket and he glanced up at the angry clouds gathering overhead. “We’re here because we need shelter, a place to stay.”
“Last I heard, Buddy doesn’t take on boarders. And there isn’t an apartment over the store like at my aunt’s anyway. I thought we were going to stay at Freddie’s.”
“You thought wrong.” He tugged her toward the store while his driver waited inside the car. He stared at the townspeople on the boardwalk until they looked away. “I’m not about to make you stay with someone who thinks you’re a murderer and makes no secret about it.”
They reached the first step that led to the boardwalk and the door where Buddy was watching them with open curiosity, several of his gray-haired friends crowding the doorway behind him trying to see what was going on.
“Then where are we going to stay?” she whispered to Dex. “There isn’t exactly a Holiday Inn around here.”
“True. But we’re not staying at a hotel.” He tugged her forward with him.
“Afternoon. Mr. Johnson, isn’t it? I’m Dex Lassiter.” He offered his hand and was pleasantly surprised when the other man shook it. He had a much friendlier look on his face than most of the other Mystic Glades residents had.
“I know who you are. You can call me Buddy. Everyone does.” His gaze settled on Amber. “It’s good to see you again.”
She blinked in surprise. “It is?”
“Yep. I don’t believe for a minute that you had anything to do with William’s death. So don’t be worrying about me standing around judging you.” He aimed a withering look at the same group of people that Dex had stared down moments earlier. They turned and hurried away. “I heard you made bail and that you were coming back. Have to say, I was kind of surprised. But I’m glad. I reckon you must be here for one thing—the keys to your granddaddy’s place. I stocked it up when I heard you were on your way. But you can look around inside and see if you need anything else. No charge. It’s the least I can do for my best friend’s granddaughter.”
He waved them inside and Dex pulled a stunned Amber behind him into the store.
As Buddy went to his office to retrieve the keys to the Callahan mansion, Amber stood beside Dex in the middle of the store. The older men, friends of Buddy’s, sat a short distance away on some folded-up chairs near a display of coolers and fishing poles, making no move to talk to either of them.
“I don’t understand. Why does Buddy have the keys to my grandfather’s house?” Amber asked. “I would have expected Freddie to have them, or at least a friend of mine, like Faye.”
“Faye Star?”
Her brows rose. “You know her?”
“I know of her. She married my PI business partner, Jake Young. They’re both out of town right now. But back to why Buddy has the keys to your grandfather’s mansion. He’s the executor of the estate, appointed by the court to take care of the property until things with you are resolved. And before you protest that you don’t want to take any supplies he may offer, trust me, they’re not exactly free of charge. He’s got access to a very healthy bank account to take care of that house. Plus, he receives a monthly stipend from the account for his troubles. He’s been well paid.”
Buddy headed down the aisle toward them, smiling as he twirled a ring of keys.
“How do you know all of this?” Amber asked.
“My attorney.”
Buddy held the keys out to Dex, but Dex motioned for him to give them to Amber. “It’s her house now.”
Buddy’s gaze shot to Dex as he handed the keys to Amber. “The charges have been dropped?”
“It’s just a matter of time. You mentioned you stocked the house?”
“Um, yes, yes, I did. The pantry and refrigerator are full, even loaded up the deep freeze. You’ll have to put sheets on the beds but all of that is there, too. And everything is clean. I hired a service as part of being the executor. The house has been cleaned once a week ever since...well, it’s clean.”
“Thank you, Mr. Johnson.” Amber clutched the keys in her hand. “For everything.”
He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed at her thanks. “It’s nothing. And I can’t remember you ever calling me by my last name in the past. No sense in starting now.”
She gave him a small smile. “Buddy. Thanks.”
He nodded and grabbed a backpack from a rack close by. “The only thing I didn’t see to before you got here was checking on the old generator up at the house. The propane tank should be full, but I haven’t cleaned or tested the generator this season. There’s a bad storm moving in. You might want to fire the thing up and make sure it’s in good order. I’ll just get you a few more things to take, to make sure you have everything that you might need.” He headed around the store, loading up the backpack with more items, and sent them on their way.
The limo headed out of Mystic Glades up a long, dirt road. The “few miles” from town turned into six before they reached the house, which was unlike any mansion Dex had ever seen. It was a two-story wooden structure that reminded him more of an old farmhouse than anything else, except that it had a wing on each end that seemed to go on forever back into the trees. There was nothing remotely fancy about the outside, but he could see the locals might think of it as a mansion simply for its size.
“It’s certainly...big,” he offered, as he held the car door open for Amber.
A whimsical smile curved her lips. “I think Granddaddy always hoped for a large family of kids and grandkids to fill these walls one day. But it didn’t exactly turn out that way.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “He was a bit...crotchety, I suppose. A lovable heart that didn’t always show on the outside unless you took the time to really get to know him.”
“Thus him and Freddie not being close?”
“Right. And Freddie never married anyway, so no grandkids there. He had three sons and two daughters, but they all left Mystic Glades as soon as they could. Everyone in his family left, in one way or another.”
“Except you.”
“Except me.” She glanced up at him. “Are we going to stand out here in the rain all day?”
He blinked and realized she was right. The fat raindrops from earlier were starting to plop down more consistently, threatening a deluge soon. He waved to the porch as the limo driver handed him the briefcase that his lawyer had gotten for him before they’d left the police station, along with the small suitcase his assistant had sent along when Dex was at Freddie’s.
By the time they’d made it to the porch and the limo was heading down the road back to Naples, the threatening rain was starting to come down in heavy sheets, turning the drive in front of the house into a big puddle.
“Ready?” Dex asked, as he set the backpack just inside the open front door along with the briefcase and suitcase.
She straightened her shoulders, facing down the dark entrance like a soldier about to go into battle. “Ready.”
Chapter Seven
Amber stood in the massive, two-story entryway, frozen in place. A warm hand touched her shoulder and she turned to see Dex standing beside her, his usual smile firmly in place.
“Good memories? Or bad?”
“Good. Mostly. Except for, well, that last day.”
He hiked the backpack onto his shoulder and managed to tuck the briefcase under the same arm that was holding the suitcase. She tried to at least take the briefcase to help, but he declined.
“They say the only way to get over a bad experience is to face it head-on,” he said.
“Do they? Who are they?”
“Hmm. I’m not sure. But it seems like good advice.”
“Maybe. I guess I’m not used to doing that exactly. But unless you’re going to turn your back and let me take off—”
“I’m not. You’re stuck with me, at least until the results of the autopsy come back.”
“I can’t imagine that will make a difference.”
“Then you’re not thinking positive thoughts like you should be.”
“Well, I never said I was an optimist.”
“Pity. We optimists have much more fun. Speaking of fun, are the bedrooms upstairs?” He winked, making her face flush hot as he grabbed her hand in his free hand and pulled her toward the stairs.
She tugged her hand out of his grasp and took the lead. “You really need to stop trying to tow me around all of the time. I can walk perfectly fine without you pulling me along.”
His hand settled onto the small of her back, sending all kinds of pleasant sensations skittering up her spine.
“Just looking after my investment,” he said. “I’d hate to lose my bail bond deposit if you scamper off somewhere.”
She reached the top of the stairs and turned right. “Exactly how much did you have to put down?”
“A hundred thousand dollars.”
She jerked to a halt and turned around. He dropped the suitcase and briefcase and grabbed her shoulders to keep from running into her.
“A little warning might be nice next time,” he muttered as he dropped his hands.
“A hundred thousand dollars?” she squeaked. “Are you crazy?”
“According to my last girlfriend, probably.” He grinned.
“Stop it. Stop with the charming stuff. This is serious.”
His smile faded. “Okay. Serious. Would I have survived the night in the swamp if you hadn’t put that poultice on my leg to draw out the poison?”
“Um, maybe. Maybe not.”
“According to the doctor your aunt brought in to see me, the answer is a definite no. You saved my life, Amber. Anything I can do to help you is the least that I can do to try to repay you. So stop worrying about me.”
“But, a hundred grand. I could never repay that much.”
He cocked a brow. “And you won’t have to, as long as you don’t take off. I won’t lose more than the bail bondsman’s fees unless you intend to disappear and not show up in court for your hearing whenever the date is set. You aren’t, are you? Planning to take off and make me lose all that money?”
Her shoulders slumped and she turned around, leading the way down the hallway again. “Not anymore,” she grumbled beneath her breath. He coughed behind her, sounding suspiciously as if he was hiding a laugh.
She stopped at the first door on the right and opened it. “There are a ridiculous number of bedrooms down both of the side wings, but this is my favorite guest—” He set everything down and continued along the hall past her. “Wait, Dex, where are you going?”
She hurried after him, catching up to him five doors down. When she saw the police crime scene tape and seal on the door, she felt the blood rush from her head.
“This is your grandfather’s room?” Dex asked.
“It was. Yes.”
“It’s still sealed.” His voice sounded incredulous.
She shrugged. “I guess so. I certainly had no reason to go back inside it. And Buddy must have told the maid service to leave it alone.”
He grabbed her shoulders. “Do you realize what this means?”
“Um, that you don’t get to stay in the master suite?”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s a fresh crime scene, even though it’s two years old. We can get some investigators out here and if they find anything to help prove your innocence it will still be admissible in court. Because nothing has been touched. The police seal on the door is proof of that.”
She stared at the tape and official notice with renewed interest. “You really think there’s a chance they can explain Granddaddy’s death some other way?”
“The current theory is that you killed him by putting peanut oil in his tonic. Did you do that?”
“Not on purpose, no.”
“Do you even remember having any peanut oil anywhere?”
“Well, no, but the coroner said it would have taken only a small amount. What if I had some peanut butter left on my hands from lunch or something and when I fixed his tonic I accidentally got some in the glass?”
“Did you have a peanut butter sandwich that day?”
“It was a long time ago.”
“According to the police report, when you were interviewed the morning your grandfather was found, you said you had a turkey sandwich for lunch. Your memory would have been a lot more fresh back then. So I think it’s safe to say you did not have peanut butter on your hands. Plus, you knew he was allergic, so you wouldn’t have taken chances if you had. You would have washed your hands.”
She pushed his hands off her shoulders and faced him with her hands on her hips. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But I racked my brain after Granddaddy died. I stepped through everything I’d done that day, over and over, trying to figure out how peanut oil could have ended up in his tonic. I couldn’t figure out any way for it to happen. Do I wish I could point the finger at someone else and say they were here and they’re the ones to put that in his drink? Of course I do. I wish I could say I saw someone outside, or heard a door slam, or saw someone running away. But I can’t. Because I didn’t see anything like that. It was raining, much like it is now. No one would have come all the way out here in that ki
nd of weather, even if they did want to hurt Granddaddy.”
“Why are you so determined to take the fall for this when you obviously didn’t do it?”
“Because it’s my fault.” She clenched her fists beside her. “He was a sick old man with just a few months to live and all I had to do was take care of him for a little while. He trusted me, relied on me, and I let him down.”
“Wait, what do you mean he only had a few months to live?”
“He had bone cancer, and it had spread all over his body. There was nothing else the doctors could do for him.”
“Well, that pretty much destroys the police motive that you killed your grandfather for the money. All you had to do was wait two months and it would have all been yours. Amber, the more I hear about this, the more I think the only reason you’re facing these charges today is because you ran. Running implies guilt. Why did you run?”
“Your room is this way.” She turned around and headed back to the first guest room. “I’ll be across the hall.” She didn’t wait for him to catch up to her. She headed into her old bedroom and shut and locked the door behind her.
* * *
DEX STOOD IN the hall, his hands on his hips as he stared at Amber’s closed door. Something wasn’t right, but damned if he could put his finger on it. Everything he’d learned about Amber Callahan in the past twenty-four hours told him she was a good person, that she cared far more about others than herself—a very rare trait that was incredibly refreshing to him after the users he met and worked with every day. Most of the people he knew wanted him for his money and power. But here he was offering Amber all of that, trying to help her, and she was instead doing everything she could to avoid his help.
Yes, she’d agreed to let him put up the bail money, but only because she hadn’t realized how much. Based on her reaction a few minutes ago, he had no doubt that she’d have refused his help and stayed in jail had she realized he’d put up a hundred grand to get her out. But even after she’d grudgingly agreed to let him help her, later in the limo she’d been far more interested in trying to convince him to hire a bodyguard and worried about his safety more than hers. The only thing that had made her drop that line of conversation was when he’d promised that he would indeed get his lawyer to interview and hire a bodyguard service in the next few days.