Small-Town Secrets

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  Bree stiffened. The sparks in her eyes would have quelled many a man.

  “One thing I pride myself on, Sheriff Holloway, is my professionalism,” she stated in a hard voice. “I was curious as to the large number of seniors’ deaths in the past few years. Looking at the cases showed me how they were handled.”

  Roy’s jaw seemed to have been carved from stone. “If I were you, Detective, I’d use your extra time to work on your family life. It seems your stepson has a hot temper. It’s not good for a kid to act out so violently. I wouldn’t like to see things happen here the way they have in other high schools.”

  There were a lot of things Bree wanted to say at that moment. All of them would have bounced her out of the department without further ado. She dug down deep and drew on every ounce of self-restraint she possessed.

  “I always thought it took two to make a fight, Sheriff,” she said quietly. “From what I’ve heard, your son has been in trouble like this before. I’ve had a talk with my stepson and we agreed the best thing he can do is stay out of your son’s way. I’m sure your boy will do the same. Was there anything else you needed to discuss?” She refused to back down.

  His jaw worked furiously. “Not at the moment.” He pushed himself off the desk and walked away.

  “It would have been easier if he’d just skinned you alive,” Don, one of the deputies, muttered as he walked by. “At least it would have been a hell of a lot easier on the ears.”

  “Don.” Bree waited for the man to turn around before she spoke again. “Has the sheriff always been this sensitive about so many deaths around here that were not natural?”

  “I think Roy’s sensitive about any case he can’t close. He takes his work seriously. But nothing ever turned up wrong. If anything had, you can be sure he wouldn’t have stopped until he found the culprit and hauled him in to jail.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured, settling back in her chair. She replayed both conversations in her head. Roy’s obvious hostility. Don’s explanation that should have made everything clear and logical. Should have settled things in her mind.

  The funny feeling in the pit of her stomach said otherwise.

  She looked up and noticed Roy leaving the station. She picked up the phone.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Am I supposed to give you a password?” Cole asked, when Bree opened the front door and gestured for him to enter. Jinx stood by her side with his ears cocked forward and his eyes fastened on Cole.

  “It might not hurt.” She walked down the hallway. “Want something to drink?”

  “What you got?”

  “Wine, coffee, Coke, milk,” she said over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen.

  “Something tells me I’d be better off with the wine.”

  “Go on into the family room. I’ll be back with the wine.”

  “Where are the kids?” he asked, walking into the room. He glanced warily at Jinx, who followed him.

  “I asked David to take them to the movies,” Bree said from the kitchen. “Since it had to be G-rated, I’m sure he’ll expect me to owe him and Sara big time. Especially since Cody chose one of those animated films with some weird characters that morph into something else when they want to save the world. Funny thing. Cody would have preferred staying home and playing in his tree house with his friends than going to the movies. That’s a new twist.”

  Cole settled onto the couch, while Jinx sat back on his haunches a few feet away.

  “If I promise not to jump your partner’s bones, will you promise not to tear my throat out?” he asked the dog.

  He decided the canine’s silence was a yes.

  Cole glanced at the pile of file folders scattered across the coffee table, and was about to open one when Bree entered the room carrying two glasses and an open bottle of wine.

  “It’s that bad, is it?” he said wryly, taking the glasses and the bottle out of her hands. He poured the wine and handed a glass to her.

  “It seems Holloway found out I was looking into old cases,” she told him as she sat down on the couch next to him. She lifted the glass to her lips and drank deeply.

  “Good thing we’re not drinking the hard stuff,” Cole muttered, watching her. “You’d be on the floor in no time if you downed it like that.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” she said tightly, setting the glass down. “I’ve got some good single malt in there.” She shook her head. “The man was furious with me for studying those cases. He accused me of wasting taxpayers’ dollars.” Her upper lip curled.

  “How did he know what you were doing?” he asked.

  “He said he looks at his officers’ computer logs. He likes to make sure we’re not playing on the Internet.”

  Cole shook his head. “Do you think he’s suspicious?”

  “I’m sure he is. We’ve already figured out he investigated most of the accident cases that were suspicious.”

  “Warm Springs doesn’t have a large department, so it’s not unheard of for him to handle many of them,” Cole pointed out. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just playing devil’s advocate here.”

  “And sherifs don’t usually come out in the middle of the night for a straightforward accident unless there is an excellent reason for doing so,” she pointed out.

  Cole slowly lifted his head and looked at her. “Late-night accidents mean fewer witnesses.”

  She nodded.

  “We’ve had our differences in the past, but he’s always cared about the community. He’s always helping out at the senior center,” Cole mused. Then it hit him. “Seniors are dying and he’s always there.”

  Bree nodded again. “A good reason why he wasn’t happy I was looking over the reports. There’s something missing from those files that I’d like to see—the coroner’s reports. We really need them. I’d also like to see if any toxicology reports were run. All of that is missing. Which could be intentional. I doubt all the victims were autopsied, but some had to be. After Holloway’s diatribe today, I don’t think he’d be too happy if he found out I was still looking into these cases.”

  “I’d offer to see what I can do, but Holloway and the coroner are golfing buddies,” Cole admitted.

  Bree stared at the papers. “I’ll get them.”

  Cole sipped his wine. “You play golf? Because that’s the only way you’ll make friends with the coroner.”

  “No, but I know people who can get them for me without having to spend the day hitting a little white ball around.” She picked up a notebook and wrote in a looping scrawl. “Or raise any red flags in case Holloway does have something to do with the deaths.”

  “I guess you know those unsavory types who understand the terms breaking and entering,” he said glibly.

  Bree shot him a look guaranteed to slice him in half. “If I thought it would work, I’d do just that. But if there’s something illegal going on, I want to make sure our butts are covered. I’m not allowing anything to get thrown out of court because we didn’t go by the book.”

  He muttered a grim curse that echoed their moods. “You’re right. If these are murders, we can’t let the killers get away with it.”

  Bree nodded as she kept writing.

  “Any way this could go federal?” Cole asked, looking over her shoulder as she wrote down names and other notes to herself.

  She shook her head. “Not unless the crime has crossed state lines or a federal officer was involved. I don’t need the feds to figure this out for me.”

  “I forgot that locals don’t like feds interfering,” he muttered. “How did you handle being married to a fed?”

  “He kept to his side of the street and I kept to mine.” Bree’s head was down as she continued scribbling in her notebook.

  Cole topped up their wineglasses and sipped at his while watching her work.

  He likened her focus to his own. When he was working on a story, he was like a pit bull: he’d dig in and refuse to let go. He easily guessed Bree
was the same way.

  He didn’t feel sorry for anyone who came up against her. She’d make sure justice was done.

  “Senior citizens are the perfect targets,” she said suddenly.

  “That’s nothing new. Why do you think I was looking into the deaths?”

  She nodded. “The death of a senior citizen is easier to cover up, because they’re expected to die, rather than someone in, say, their twenties. Seniors are more prone to accidents.”

  “Keep going,” he urged, following her line of thought.

  She tapped her pen against the edge of her notebook. “We’ve already decided that someone is targeting senior citizens. When you first looked into this, why didn’t you talk to Joshua and Renee Patterson? From what I’ve seen, they’re very active at the senior center. And well respected in town. It stands to reason they’d know everything that goes on in the senior community. It also stands to reason they would know something about this.”

  Cole shook his head almost violently. “No way,” he argued. “I refuse to believe they would have anything to do with this.” He held up his hand to indicate Bree should remain silent. “I’ve always prided myself on my gut instincts. Not Josh and Renee.”

  “Did you ever talk to them about any of this?”

  He looked away for a moment before replying. “No,” he finally admitted. “And I should have. They practically built that center from the ground up. They know everyone involved with the place. If anyone knows if anything is going on, it would be them. If they thought something was wrong, why wouldn’t they have said something to Holloway or even me?”

  “Because they know too much?” She didn’t back down from his glare. “I’m a cop, Becker. Suspicion is my business.”

  “And finding the truth is mine,” he insisted.

  “Then let’s agree to do just that. Find the truth. Did you ever talk to Holloway about this?”

  Cole nodded. “Once. I thought he might have overheard something when he was helping out at the center that might not have meant anything at the time. He said that as sad as it is, we have to expect people in a certain age group to die sooner rather than later. He didn’t want me to start a witch hunt.”

  “He’s right, in that respect.”

  “And after the way he reacted when he found out you were looking into those cases, you’re not going to be able to speak to anyone in an official capacity,” Cole said.

  She nodded. “Not if I want to keep my job. I’ve got to keep a very low profile in this.”

  “Then we won’t do it officially. I’ll talk to Josh and Renee. See about getting together with them for lunch or something. Keep it all casual.”

  “Good idea. In the meantime, I’ll make some calls and see if there’s a way I can get copies of the coroner’s reports.” She began writing again.

  “Bree.” He said her name quietly.

  It took her a moment to register the fact that he’d spoken. She looked up with an inquiring expression.

  “Thank you.”

  A faint smile touched her lips. “I wanted to believe that nothing bad could happen in a small town.”

  “It would be nice to think that way, wouldn’t it?” Cole set his wineglass down and turned to better face her.

  He figured once she’d gotten home, she’d changed out of whatever she’d worn to work. Now she wore a knit tunic the color of paprika and dark tan leggings. Her feet were bare, with the nails painted a deep russet. He’d noticed a pair of fuzzy rabbit slippers lying near a chair. He hid a smile. They looked to be her size.

  The hard-nosed sheriff’s detective who once primarily dealt with corpses had some interesting curves, sported painted toenails and smelled like sin.

  Memories of that night out in the desert foothills, when she’d been in his arms, swept over him.

  She’d felt damn good. Tasted even better.

  The desire to repeat those moments came through so strong he felt as if it was written across his face.

  He’d already broken his personal rule about not dating anyone who lived in Warm Springs. There was no reason to stop now.

  “We through with business matters?” he murmured.

  “I’d say so. Why, you have a hot date?” Her lips curved upward.

  The reply she didn’t expect was his mouth suddenly pressing against hers.

  Bree’s lips instantly softened under his gentle assault. She lifted her arms to loop them around his neck.

  Their mouths couldn’t seem to get enough as they hungrily feasted on each other.

  He slid his hand under her top, splaying his fingertips against her midriff. He felt her sharp indrawn breath. In seconds, he had her top off and dropped it to the floor.

  “Gorgeous,” he muttered against her mouth. “I did tell you you’re gorgeous, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but don’t stop,” she whispered, as she unbuttoned his shirt. He drew back long enough for her to pull his shirt off.

  “I always believe in doing what the law tells me to do,” he whispered back as he cupped her breast, using his thumb to tenderly caress the taut nipple. He dropped his head to lave it with his tongue. The dark rose tip pebbled under his touch. Encouraged, he drew it into his mouth and sucked gently.

  “Cole!” she gasped, pulling on his shoulders. She arched against him. She blindly sought his mouth, which he brought down to hers with a hunger that wasn’t about to be denied.

  Muttered words between them were raw, aching with need.

  “I lose any good sense I have when I’m around you,” he murmured, as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her leggings and started to pull them down. A faint tan line from her bathing suit bottom teased him as he lowered the skintight fabric. He leaned over to caress the tiny freckle on her hip with his lips.

  “Oh no!” Bree jumped up so fast that Cole was neatly clipped in the chin. He fell backward, landing painfully on the floor.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, startled and puzzled by this sudden change.

  She looked around wildly, spied her top and snatched it up. She pulled it on over her head. After that, she ran her fingers through her hair and jumped up off the couch.

  “Pull your shirt back on,” she ordered. She looked at him, her dropped eyes downward, then lifted them. “You have to do something about that!” she hissed.

  He didn’t need to look down to know what she was talking about. “It’s not like I can think it down,” he said mildly, even though his nerve endings were screaming for relief.

  “The garage door went up two seconds ago, which means my kids will be coming in here in another five seconds. Cody asks enough questions now without him coming up with a few more I really don’t want to answer just yet.” She looked down, realized her top was on inside out and quickly pulled it off and then on again.

  Cole buttoned his shirt and tucked the tails back into his jeans.

  “It was a lame movie, Cody!” Sara shouted, as the trio tramped into the kitchen.

  “You’re just mad cuz that boy from your school saw you,” Cody yelled back. “Lacey didn’t care.”

  “Of course she didn’t. She was playing snuggle up with David all through the movie.”

  Bree and Cole caught a glimpse of the teenager as she swept down the hallway. A moment later, her bedroom door slammed.

  Bree winced. “I really need to add door slamming to the list of sins to be paid into the Cuss Jar.”

  “I’m not taking Sara again,” David announced, appearing in the doorway. Lacey stood just behind him. “She’s the one who acted like a six-year-old. Hey, Cole,” he acknowledged the man, spearing him with a hard gaze.

  Cole noticed Bree’s smile wasn’t as natural as it normally would have been as she faced her stepson.

  “Dare I ask how that happened?” she inquired.

  “She didn’t want to see the movie and I told her she couldn’t see a different one,” he stated. “She pulled a major pout all through the film.” He lowered his voice. “Okay, it wasn’t meant fo
r anyone over the age of seven, but it wasn’t totally bad, either. At least, not as bad as she made it out to be. I told her to knock off her attitude or she could walk home. Lacey and I are going to listen to CDs in my room.”

  Bree nodded. “Okay.”

  Cole waited until he figured the teenagers were out of earshot. “You’re a trusting mom. I know mine wouldn’t have let me take a girl into my bedroom to listen to music.”

  “There are three reasons why it’s allowed. One, his door has to remain open at all times. Two, the music can’t be so loud it deafens the household. Three, and most important, is that privacy is not in the vocabulary of a six-year-old boy. Their virtue is as safe in there as it would be in church.”

  “Not like yours a few minutes ago.”

  “Oh, Mom.” David peeked around the corner. “You might want to fix your shirt—it’s on backward. If the drama queen notices, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  Bree gasped and spun around, piercing Cole with a look that should have left him on the floor writhing in acute pain. His silent answer was an expression of angelic innocence and his hands held up in a helpless gesture.

  “Sara’s at that horrible age where she thinks everything she does is right and everything I do is wrong,” she whispered furiously as she tugged her top around until it was on correctly.

  She’d barely set things to right before Sara appeared in the doorway. She ignored Cole as she looked at her stepmother. “I gather the smell coming from the kitchen is dinner?”

  “Stew in the crockpot,” Bree clarified. “It should be ready in about an hour.”

  Sara glanced at Cole, then turned back to Bree. “Is he staying for dinner?”

  “How sweet of you to suggest it, dear. Why don’t you set the table?”

  “She didn’t notice a thing,” Cole said in a low voice once they were alone.

  “That’s what you think,” Bree mumbled, walking over to the bunny slippers and pushing her feet into them. “She can see a hair out of place at a hundred yards.” She glanced down at her watch and headed for the cordless phone resting in a cradle near the couch. “Might as well start on those calls right now.”

  Cole sipped his wine and listened to Detective Bree Fitzpatrick work her magic. He heard snippets of what must have been old war stories, her murmured words of yes, the family was doing fine and no, working in a small town was not petrifying her brain. By the time she’d finished, she was assured copies of the reports she’d requested and no, her name would never come up. Not once did she say exactly why she wanted the reports nor why she didn’t request them through local channels.