by Ava Miles
She didn’t want to admit she’d missed him…and worried about him. He never missed a swim.
When he tried to help her with her coat, she batted him away. “I can do it.”
He held up his hands, looking so masculine in a navy sweater and jeans. “What crawled up your ass?”
At his direct approach, she threw her coat aside. “I don’t like lying to Jillie about this. That’s what.” Who cared if it were a half-truth? She wasn’t about to say she was mad at him for asking her to give him everything.
His hearty sigh filled the silence. “Yes, lying fucking sucks. Hopefully we won’t have to do it for much longer, and this will all be over.”
The emotion in his voice stopped her from yanking off her gloves. “What are you so upset about?”
The intensity of his gaze rocked her back on her heels. “I don’t like lying to a Hale either.” He hung her coat. “I missed our swim because something came up with my family. I should have called.”
She pressed her hands to the navy bustier she was wearing under her green sweater, seeking balance. She didn’t know what to say. Their conversation made it seem like she had a right to know where he was. Like they were exclusive.
“Is everything all right?”
“No, but it will be. Thanks for bringing the autopsy report. I assume you read it.”
She let him change the topic, but it only made her more curious. What was his family like? What had made him the man he was? Scary thoughts.
“Of course, I read it. The suspense was killing me. There’s nothing there. It’s a paragraph.” She dug into her purse and thrust the paper out. “Read it yourself. Then I have some things to share.”
He grabbed the report. “Let’s have some coffee.”
She followed him into the kitchen, trying to ignore what a showstopper it was. Gleaming stainless steel appliances, acres of granite countertops, and copper pots hanging from iron beams over a double stove.
“Grandpa and I are still trying to figure out how to ask for the police report without raising suspicion.”
He started the coffee in a shiny, expensive appliance that had to be European.
“You talked to him? Good. Let’s wait a bit on the police report until we think this through.” He grabbed the autopsy report and started skimming it.
Hopping onto the bar stool in front of the massive gray granite counter, she swung her leg back and forth. “Then I can tell—”
“It mentions alcohol in her system, but nothing else? What the hell?” Tanner tossed the report aside.
“I’ve thought about this. I think Gene left out any illegal substances to protect her family. They’re elders in his church. We can ask him quietly.”
“I’m sorry. What are you talking about?”
“Gene Kerris, the coroner. He goes to the same church as Jemma’s family.”
“Christ! Obstruction of justice for moral purposes?”
“Who said it was obstruction of justice? He would never do that!”
“There’s no mention of marijuana or anything laced. How do you know him again? Gene, right?”
Meredith inhaled the dark roast scent of the coffee before taking a drink from the cup he offered her. “He’s my dad’s best friend. Lives down the street. They’re fishing buddies.”
“Well, you said he was a family friend.”
“Yes. He and his wife have been part of our lives forever. They’re probably my favorite of my parent’s friends.” She smiled, rubbing her thumb against the rim of her coffee cup “Gene’s a nut, always cracking jokes. He has the scariest house around Halloween, and he used to freak out all of the kids by saying that he had a real corpse in the basement. Anyone who had the nerve to show up at his door got a whole bag of candy.”
He leaned back. “Did you?”
She took a deep breath as his long, lithe form stretched out toward her. “Yes. My dad promised Jill and me Gene was only kidding, but he held our hands as we walked up the steps.” It was a good memory. Her dad had helped her face her fears. Where had that brave little girl gone?
“Now, I’m officially in The Twilight Zone. We have a Halloween-loving coroner with a sense of humor who left out details about marijuana and maybe more in an official report to protect some people in his church? What century is this?”
She pulled her hair. “You don’t get it! This is a small town. Gene’s protecting Jemma’s family from a church scandal. She was a good kid. People can be narrow-minded sometimes.”
His mouth flattened into a grim line. “You’re kidding?”
She gave him a cold stare.
“Okay, so you trust him. I get it. Family friend. But you’ve been gone for a while. Are you sure nothing’s happened to him financially? Maybe he wanted to make some cash on the side? Or maybe someone asked him to leave something out of his report.”
“There’s no way he’s involved. I know you want to find a link, but it’s not Gene. This isn’t the first time that minor family wrongdoings have been left out of the public record. Gene’s old school. My grandpa agrees. Now, let me tell you—”
“Have you seen Gene since you’ve been home?”
His continued interruptions had her tapping her feet. “Sure. Ran into him at Jill’s. He said he envied my parents for their trip to Arizona. Gene was supposed to retire this year and begin what he calls Fishing Paradise. But the stock market didn’t cooperate, so he’s got to cut people open for another year. Said it’s good practice for all the fish he’s planning to gut.”
“So he does have financial—”
“Jeez, are you always this suspicious? Tons of people had to delay their retirement because of the stock market.”
“I always keep an open mind, like any good reporter.”
She pulled on her hair. “Shut it. I have more to tell you.”
“Why are you so pissed?”
“Because you keep interrupting me, and I have something to tell you.” She took a breath. “Keep in mind that I decided not to tell you this when we were at my grandpa’s house because I knew I needed to talk with him first. He’s agreed we can share the info with you. He trusts you.” She couldn’t add that she did too.
The look he gave her could have petrified wood.
“Okay then, so before I came home, Grandpa’s famous gut was twitching about an increase in the number of college kids ending up in the ER. The tox screens only showed alcohol and marijuana. He had me do some research on any new developments in the Dare drug trade. Nothing popped. The market is too small for bigger networks to be involved. I told Grandpa it was only binge drinking, which is an increasing problem on college campuses. Like your source’s supplier said.”
His gaze met hers dead on. Damn his chocolate eyes anyway. She wrung her hands in the silence.
“I understand you wanting to talk with Arthur first. I would have done the same thing. But I’m damn glad someone trusts me enough to share information like this.”
She crossed her arms. “Then you’ll be even more pleased to learn Grandpa wants to discuss everything with all of us together.”
His exhale could have sent paper airplanes across the room. “I take it you guys have a file.”
“Yes.”
“I want to see it. Set up a dinner with your grandpa. I want everyone to put their cards on the table.”
“You don’t have to sound so bitchy.”
“I forgot to take my nice pill today.”
She smiled—all teeth. “Fine, then you should know that I already told Grandpa about our cover.”
He growled. “Great. Now, what do you know about Barlow? Ray said he was the officer who showed up first at the scene.”
The name made her stomach clench. “Well, he’s the deputy sheriff of Eagle County, but not a local boy. Only moved to the area sometime this year, I think.”
“Not a crime, but worth looking into. Did you go out with him?”
“You really are in a shitty mood.”
“Meredith.”
Her mind flashed back to Barlow’s grip on her arms, the uninvited kiss to her neck. She shivered. “He’s…pushy. Not afraid to use force.” Telling him Barlow couldn’t have been more different than Nora’s hero, Alex Stanislaski, didn’t seem like an important detail. Tanner wouldn’t know what she was talking about anyway.
“Did he hurt you?”
Goosebumps broke out across her arms at the utter flatness of his voice. “No. Let’s leave it at that.” The sound of a dog barking filtered into the room, and she turned and looked at the back door.
Tanner walked over and opened it. A golden dog with prominent ribs jumped on Tanner, who rubbed his ears.
“Hey, boy. You done playing?”
The dog barked in three short bursts and then raced to a nearby water bowl, slurping heartily.
“I didn’t know you had a dog.”
“He wore me down. Kept hanging around the house.”
She couldn’t imagine anything wearing Tanner down. She certainly couldn’t.
“What’s his name?”
“Hugo.” He laughed when the dog raced over. “I wasn’t talking to you. Silly dog.”
His hand rubbed Hugo’s coat in long strokes, making Meredith look away. Part of her wondered how those hands would feel on her skin again.
Pretty sad when you envy a dog.
Since Meredith couldn’t agree more, she didn’t respond. Divorcée Woman was more right than wrong these days. It was annoying as hell.
“Why Hugo? And what kind of dog is he?”
“The vet thinks he’s a golden sheltie, which means he’s playful and likes to herd. Don’t you, boy? And he’s named after Victor Hugo, my favorite novelist.”
Her heart thudded hard against her chest. Wasn’t Hugo’s Les Misérables her favorite novel? She wasn’t voicing that one. No siree. Seeing this sweet side of him was more than she could take. She didn’t even want to consider the fact they had yet another thing in common.
“I’ll call Grandpa. He should be home tonight. I don’t think there’s Bingo at church.”
“Arthur Hale plays Bingo?”
She drained her coffee. “He says he hears more information there than anywhere else. And it’s the only gambling in town. We had a hotel and casino once, but it closed during the Depression. I wish I had seen it at its peak. Dare was the destination for the jet set and mobsters back then. Now The Grand Mountain Hotel is just a condemned building up in the canyon.”
Tanner reached for his North Face coat. “It almost ruins his image. The towering independent journalist and newspaperman who taps into the heart of the West like no other plays…Bingo.”
“It’s what makes him good. He likes to be with real people. Not all journalists do.” She thought of Rick-the-Dick. He didn’t like people. He used them and then cast them aside.
Tanner was different. He liked people. He understood them. No one could feign that interest, that intensity of listening. When he walked toward her and tapped her on the nose, her lashes fluttered.
“I suspect being with real people is a Hale trait.” He sauntered out the kitchen, Hugo trailing after him. “Do me a favor though. Try not to act like it’s such a chore to be my pretend girlfriend. Otherwise, I’ll make you a bumper sticker that says Real People Play Bingo and put it on your nice new Audi. Come on. I’ll walk you out.”
Her lips twitched. “I’ll do my best not to gag.”
Deep down, she knew being his girlfriend wouldn’t be a chore at all—pretend or otherwise.
Chapter 25
Arthur Hale was as sharp as a tack. Tanner caught the gleam in the man’s eyes as he re-read the autopsy report. Seeing the legend work was like watching Brokaw or Woodward. The ground under his feet suddenly felt holier. He didn’t question it, simply enjoyed it.
They were gathered together in Arthur’s living room, sitting on a well-worn blue couch next to an antique coffee table. Tanner listened as Arthur explained all he knew. Meredith added her two cents, looking beautiful in a red sweater and gray skirt. Then Tanner ran them through what Ray had told him.
Arthur crunched down on a red hot. “Well, between the three of us, we don’t have a pot to piss in. I couldn’t reach Gene, but I’d bet my grandfather’s Winchester he left the drug use out as a kindness, like Meredith said. You’d have to know their congregation, Tanner. Something like this would send the faithful into an apoplexy. We’re still a small town. People watch out for each other without being asked. Gene knows that information won’t bring her back.”
“So, you don’t think he could have another motivation? Like making some extra dough since his stock portfolio crashed?”
Arthur tapped his cane—hard. “No, Gene may have to work for a year longer than he wanted, but he’d never make a wrong step. I’ve known him since he was a kid, playing with my boy.”
“Okay.” Who could fight against that character reference?
Arthur frowned and looked him in the eyes. “I won’t ask if you trust your source about the drugs.”
Tanner met his gaze.
“I doubt the police report will say much,” Arthur continued. “From what I’ve heard, it’s been treated as a straightforward case. Her alcohol level was well above the legal limit. She died from a heart murmur. Case closed.”
Meredith handed Tanner a file. “Grandpa compiled the names of the kids who were admitted to the ER. Have your source confirm he sold marijuana to them. If we triangulate they were his clients—”
“Then we add Jemma to the list and have something that’s consistent,” Tanner interjected.
“Exactly,” Arthur added. “Then maybe your sister, Peggy, will be able to prove the drugs were laced, like your source says. Dare doesn’t have any fancy equipment. Gene’s tests might have missed it.”
“In the meantime, we start with my source’s main supplier and follow it up the chain,” Tanner said. “Shake the bushes.”
Arthur popped in another red hot, rolling it around in his mouth. “So, your source only knows the guy who gives him the drugs at the garage. Kenny Hopkins. We need more. I’m still not clear why Jemma died and no one else. Is it because they threw their guts up?”
Tanner wondered the same. “We’ve got more questions than answers, but that’s always the way a good story starts.”
Meredith raised her hand. “Why don’t I stop by Gene’s house tomorrow night after work? That way we can keep it social.”
“Okay,” Tanner agreed. “Can you ask him to run another test if he didn’t find anything on the first pass? I want a second set of results. Gene tested her… remains. Peggy can test the drugs. It’s a different base. But please don’t tell Gene about the other test.”
Just because they trusted him didn’t mean he had to do the same.
Arthur leaned forward. “Fine. Two tests will carry more weight. Better confirmation for the courts if we find anything. Why the hell was a nice girl like Jemma smoking marijuana anyway? Such a damn waste.”
Meredith patted his liver-spotted hand. “Pete showed up at the Halloween party with another girl, and Jemma was acting out.”
Arthur gripped his cane. “I’ll ask for the police report. Even if there’s nothing useful in it, it’ll tell us who else was on the scene with Gene besides Deputy Barlow. I don’t like the fact that no one was seriously interviewed.”
“The coroner is in charge of the crime scene according to Colorado law,” Meredith told Tanner.
Arthur nodded, and then said, “Mere, ask Gene if any drugs from the party were submitted as evidence.”
“Someone might have flushed them,” Tanner suggested. “My source said he couldn’t find everything he sold that night.”
“We’ll know more after I talk to Gene.”
“How are you going to explain your questions?” Tanner asked.
Meredith tapped her chin. “I’ll tell him that Jill’s desperate to know more. He has a soft spot for her. She always bribed him with mom’s chocolate chip cookies to take her fis
hing.”
“He’ll buy that,” Arthur replied. “Jill is having a hard time. Details might help.”
And then again, details didn’t change a damn thing. Jemma would still be dead.
“I’d like to meet your source.” Meredith reached for a red hot in the crystal candy bowl on the coffee table.
Tanner shook his head. “No way.”
“But we’re partners. You brought me—us—in.” She looked at Arthur. “We know the local scene. We can ask him things you can’t. Grandpa, tell him.”
“No, Meredith. I would feel the same way. A good reporter never gives up his source.”
Tanner looked up and met the older man’s eyes, and a moment of complete understanding and respect passed between them.
“Give me your questions. I’ll ask the ones I haven’t covered.”
Meredith tapped her foot. Tanner was afraid steam would start spewing from her ears.
“He might have to come forward anyway,” she said in a persuasive voice.
“He’s hoping if we find enough evidence he won’t have to.”
She snorted. “Right, because he’d go to jail.”
Not answering seemed a good approach.
“You don’t give an inch.”
He stared her down when she put her hands on her hips. “I lost a source when I was young and stupid by trusting another journalist. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
“That’s to your credit, Tanner.”
Arthur uncurled from the sofa, rubbing a hand on his aged back. Tanner would love to have seen the man in his prime, riding a horse through the pyramids like in the photo above the fireplace.
“And you thought Dare was going to be boring,” Arthur said.
Tanner picked up his coffee cup when he stood. “I never said boring. Just not the pressure-cooker I’m used to.”
Arthur popped in another red hot, crunching. “What’s your source doing? Still selling?”
“He said people are freaked out about Jemma and aren’t buying much right now. Plus, there’s fewer parties with the end of the semester looming. If someone asks, he’s going to tell them he’s out or forgot to bring his stash. I asked him to keep a low profile.”