Written in Blood (Otter Creek Book 3)

by Rebecca Deel

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A bystander screamed. Rod dove for Megan, knocking her out of the SUV’s path. The vehicle roared past, trailed by a cloud of misty exhaust. He scrambled to his feet, leaped over Meg, weapon in hand.

  “Police! Stop!”

  The driver of the vehicle ignored Rod’s shout. Other pedestrians in the square scattered. As the vehicle sped from the square, Rod caught a partial license plate number and holstered his weapon.

  Zoe dashed out the newspaper office door and plowed through the gathering crowd. “Boss! Are you okay?” She dropped to her knees and tried to help the struggling Megan to an upright position.

  “Take it easy, Meg.” Rod laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Wait until the EMTs check you.”

  She glared at him. “I’m not messing with those EMTs again. They’ll want to cart me off to the hospital and I’ve had enough of that place this week.”

  “But, Boss, the detective hit you pretty hard.”

  Meg turned her scowl to Zoe. “Josh hit harder when we played football in the backyard. I’m fine. Now let me up. Everybody is staring at me.”

  Rod slipped his arm around her back and one under her knees and lifted her in his arms. After Zoe thrust Meg’s bag into her hand, he carried Meg toward the police station.

  “You’re making a scene, Kelter. Put me down.”

  He glared down at her red face. “Shut up, Cahill.” When she opened her mouth, no doubt to smart off, he simply raised an eyebrow and she subsided. Smart lady. Too much guff from her and he would call in reinforcements.

  The desk sergeant saw him climbing the stairs and rushed to open the station door. “You’ll have to let the squad in on your pick-up line, Detective. The beautiful women are falling at your feet now.”

  “Falling?” Rod rolled his eyes. “I had to tackle this one. Where’s the chief?”

  “Office.”

  Megan kicked her feet. “Put me down.”

  Rod tightened his grip around her. “Keep pushing me, Cahill, and I’ll transport you to the hospital in cuffs.”

  She growled, but finally fell into a seething silence. The calm before the storm, he knew. The first opportunity without an audience, he was toast. He carried her into the squad room, and the workers and cops fell silent.

  Meg buried her face in his neck. “You are going to pay for this,” she whispered.

  “I figured that.” He carried her into Ethan’s office.

  Ethan jumped to his feet and came around the desk. “What happened?”

  “SUV tried to run her down in the square.” Rod slowly set Meg on her feet. “Tell me if something hurts, Meg. No holding back or being the tough editor.”

  She scowled at him. “You didn’t have to carry me. I could have walked in here under my own steam. I am beyond mad at you, Kelter.”

  “Yeah? Get in line, honey. You aren’t the first person I ticked off today.” Despite Meg’s bravado, she swayed where she stood. He slipped his arm around her waist to steady her. Stubborn woman.

  Ethan grasped her arm and helped her sit in a chair. “You need to see a doctor, babe.”

  “Quit hovering. I’m not an idiot. If I needed to go to the hospital, I’d tell you. The car didn’t hit me. Rod did.”

  “May I quote you on that?” Ruth Rollins walked into the office and stepped between Rod and Ethan to sit beside Megan in the second chair.

  “Be my guest.” Meg lifted a trembling hand and tucked strands of her hair behind her ear. “You would have made a great defensive tackle for the Cowboys, Detective.”

  More concern swept through him. He knelt beside her. “Are you sure you’re all right? I did hit you pretty hard.” He’d been so afraid he was too late, that he wouldn’t reach her in time. “You’ll probably have a bruise on your ribs to match the one on your back.”

  “Did you get the plate number?” Ethan asked.

  “A partial. Tennessee tag NJR 3. Black Lincoln Navigator, late model.”

  “Good work. Remind me to give you a raise.” Ethan motioned to one of the officers in the squad room and gave him the information. “Start with Navigators in Dunlap County and Otter Creek.”

  After the officer left to begin the computer search, Ruth said, “Meg needs something sweet to counteract the shock.”

  Rod stood. “I’ll take care of it.” He ignored Ethan’s surprised expression and strode to the employee break room. Grateful to find it empty for once, Rod took a minute to pace, bleeding off the adrenaline. If he’d been a second or two slower, both of them would be at the hospital right now. Maybe in the morgue.

  His fist clenched. Had the shooter tried to take Meg out again, the third time in three days? If so, the move was either incredibly bold or desperate to run her down in broad daylight. For that matter, how did the shooter know when Meg would leave the Gazette office? Was it a chance encounter? Would he have tried to run her off the road if she’d driven the Jeep instead of walking across the square?

  When he’d settled enough, he crossed to the vending machine, slipped quarters into the slot and selected a Snickers bar. At the drink machine, he chose a Coke. He knew from being with Serena so much that the Cahill women preferred Diet Coke, but Meg needed the sugar right now.

  Ethan met him half-way across the squad room. “You all right?” His dark eyes studied Rod’s face.

  “Adrenaline rush.”

  He nodded. “Did the car clip you?”

  Rod shook his head. “Think you could talk Meg into protective custody?”

  “Already tried that. She handed me my head on a platter.”

  “Mine, too.” He started toward the office. “I wish she wasn’t so stubborn. It may end up getting her killed.”

  A Snickers bar dropped into her lap. Meg smiled. “You’re back in my good graces, Kelter.”

  “We need to talk.” Rod’s voice sounded grim. A signal from Ethan and Ruth patted her on the hand and left the office.

  She tore open the wrapper. “About?”

  “Protective custody.”

  “We already had that discussion. The answer’s still no.” She took a bite of the candy.

  “Meg, this attempt on your life was too close. If I hadn’t been there or if I’d been a step or two slower, you could be in the hospital or the morgue.”

  “That’s not how it turned out. And we still don’t know that this incident was deliberate. It might have been an accident.”

  “You’re right,” Ethan said. “We don’t know that. But if it was Serena or Madison, would you want us to take that chance?”

  “I can’t do my job from seclusion. Deadlines won’t wait for me to come out of hiding.”

  “You promised you wouldn’t dig into Sherri’s murder,” Rod said. “Did you find a way around it? Are you investigating?”

  “Investigating is your job. I interview.”

  Color climbed into Rod’s cheeks. “You didn’t answer my question. It’s getting to be a habit, Cahill.”

  “There were two questions and the answer to both is no.” She frowned. “I’ve managed to get the information Ruth needs without interrogating your suspects, though it hasn’t been easy.”

  Ethan tilted his head. “Is there some other story you’re working on that might trigger an incident like this?”

  “The only other major story I’m working on is the water system project, and right now no one knows it’s a story. We’re still nosing around to see if there is a story worth pursuing.”

  “So you haven’t seen the Drakes again?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Meg.” Rod’s voice carried a hint of steel.

  She smiled and sipped her Coke. “I can’t promise I won’t have to interview them for Ruth’s articles, but I will let you know beforehand. Fair enough?”

  “I want your word you’ll call me or Ethan soon enough that we’ll have time to send in the cavalry.”

  “I promise. Should I report my agenda each day as well?”

  “That’ll do for
a start,” Ethan said. “Where do you need to go this afternoon?”

  “I’m covering a Christmas party and interviewing Sherri’s mother and, maybe, her father.” Her eyes narrowed at the look that passed between Ethan and Rod. “What?”

  “I’m going with you,” Rod said, holding out his hand to her. “What’s first?”

  She grasped his hand, already stiffening from the tackle. Meg knew she’d have trouble standing without help. Not that she planned to tell these overbearing cops how much she hurt. “Don’t you have a job to do? I don’t need babysitting services.”

  “I need to talk to the Kings anyway and I had a couple of questions I wanted to ask you before I dove for the touchdown.” He opened the office door. “Maybe this way I’ll be able to keep you out of trouble instead of diving to the rescue.”

  “Dream on, buddy.” Meg eyed him. “You any good at taking pictures?”

  “Fair, why?”

  “You’re hired. And by the way, I’m driving.”

  Ethan’s laughter followed them into the squad room.

  Rod squeezed his eyes shut and clamped one hand more tightly around his phone and the other around the Jeep’s door handle. “You sure you can’t work it in?”

  He half listened to the computer nerd explain priorities in the lab. Apparently his request fell near the middle of the list. “Okay. I’d appreciate whatever you can do to move me up the list, man.”

  Rod opened his eyes again and cringed. “Who taught you to drive, Meg? Dale Earnhart, Jr.?”

  Meg laughed. “Lighten up, Rod.”

  “Next time I see Henderson, I’m going to tear a strip from his hide for letting you dodge all those tickets.” He longed to press on the brake pedal and slow her down. Did she always drive like this? “Slow down, Meg, or I’ll write you a ticket myself.”

  She grinned, but eased up on the gas pedal.

  Rod breathed easier as the needle neared the posted speed limit. One good thing, he’d noticed that Meg always wore her seatbelt. “Where are you taking me for lunch?”

  Her lips twitched. “Who said anything about lunch?”

  “You’re driving, you’re paying.”

  “I guess that’s fair, especially since you paid the tab last night.” She flipped on the blinker. “Joe’s Tacos okay? We’re running late.”

  “Fine.”

  Rod waited until Meg had finished her tacos and Coke before broaching the topic uppermost in his mind. “Did you know Sherri kept a diary?”

  Meg shot him a glance. “She did?”

  Guess that answered his question. “I found five diaries in her closet, from 2000 to 2004. When I checked her laptop computer, she had files in her word processing documents. They’re labeled by the year date, from 2005 forward.”

  “Did you read the computer files?”

  “They’re password protected and the lab’s backed up on other cases right now. Do you have any idea what Sherri might have used as a password?”

  “You already checked the obvious ones, birthdays and anniversary date?”

  “Yeah. No dice.”

  Meg’s brow wrinkled. “Nothing comes to mind right off hand, but let me think about it.”

  Disappointment weighed heavy. He’d hoped Meg could help. The computer geeks at the lab could probably break the password, but he didn’t want to wait a few months. The files might contain nothing that helped, but he’d like to read them for himself sooner rather than later to make that determination.

  Meg turned into the long driveway of the Holt Plantation. Puzzled, Rod said, “Why are we here?”

  “Gardening Society Christmas luncheon.”

  Oh, joy. A luncheon with the flower matrons of Otter Creek. “Let me guess. This is where I earn my lunch by taking pictures.”

  “You got it.”

  Rod eyed her, suspicion growing. “What am I photographing?”

  “Otter Creek’s flower gurus.”

  “And?”

  Meg grinned. “And the house, garden and grounds.”

  In December? What sane person wanted pictures of a dead garden in the middle of winter? Great. Cold feet, cold hands, cold everything. The brisk wind from earlier had turned raw and biting. “Where’s your regular photographer?”

  “This is his day off.”

  Meg almost felt sorry for Rod. Almost. He stepped into the rear of the room, camera in hand, shivering, cheeks and eyes red. A little payback for embarrassing her earlier, but she needed pictures for the paper’s weekend edition. Her lips curved. Probably not the outdoor shots, though.

  She snagged a copy of the luncheon program and jotted a few notes for the write-up when Francis Malone’s words caught her attention.

  “Money for dues and other fees may be given to Maeve Drummond. She is our new treasurer. Have a wonderful Christmas, ladies. See you in January.”

  Meg remained seated in a chair in the corner as the twenty or so women milled around the ornate dining room. The Gardening Society had already elected a treasurer to replace Sherri within two days of her death?

  Rod crossed the room to her side. “What’s wrong?”

  She needed to practice her poker face. The handsome detective was starting to read her expressions too well. “Sherri met with the Gardening Society’s executive committee Sunday afternoon.” She inclined her head toward the women clustered around the fireplace. “That makes them some of the last people to see her alive. Maybe they can tell us what was on her mind.”

  “Meg.” His voice carried a warning. “You promised to stay out of the murder investigation.

  She rose. “They’ve already replaced her as treasurer, Rod. She hasn’t even been buried yet.”

  She singled out Francis and drew her to the side. “Maeve’s the new treasurer? Fast work, isn’t it?”

  A sympathetic look crossed the older woman’s face. “Not really, dear. Sherri asked us to meet Sunday and handed in her resignation. She’s the one who recommended Maeve to the committee as a replacement.”

  Resigned? Meg bit her lip. Sherri never mentioned she was thinking about stepping down. She loved her Gardening Society work. “Why did she resign?”

  Francis spread her hands. “Like I already told Detective Kelter, she hoped her schedule would be too full to continue in that position by next fall. She didn’t explain any further.”

  Meg blinked away sudden tears. So, Francis didn’t know the reason. Meg knew, after talking with Wanda King and learning the background to Sherri’s resignation. “Is there anything particular you want us to mention in the article? Maybe the date and time of your next meeting?”

  Francis gave her the information and returned to the waiting committee.

  Meg and Rod climbed back into the Jeep. She cranked the engine and set the vehicle in motion. “Do you have Sherri’s laptop?”

  “At the station. Why?”

  “I think I know the password.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Leaning on his desk, Rod watched over Meg’s shoulder as she typed in the keystrokes. The dialog screen winked out and the text for Sherri’s journal popped up. “What did you type?”

  “Jordan Tyler Drake.”

  He thought about that for a minute, but came up blank. “Who is that?”

  Meg turned her face away and sat still for a moment. “The name of the son she wanted to have.”

  Memories of the birth of his daughter flooded his mind, memories that Ty wouldn’t have with Sherri because someone ended her life too soon. Rod squeezed Meg’s shoulder. No wonder she sounded so choked up.

  She wiped tears from her face and turned to him. “Come with me to Mrs. King’s place and bring the laptop. The battery is fully charged. I’ll drive while you read Sherri’s journal.” She gave him a watery smile. “I’ll even keep to the speed limit.”

  He held out his hand and helped Meg to her feet. “Deal.”

  In the car, Megan turned off the radio and drove in silence. She burned with curiosity, but held her tongue in check. If she pushed
too hard, Rod would clam up and she would learn nothing.

  Megan had to admit she kind of liked Ethan’s sidekick. A little. Okay, more than a little. Enough to do something about it? An intriguing idea. She appreciated his sharp sense of humor and the fact he didn’t back down from a fight with her. He hung in there, just like her father, Josh, Nick and Ethan. Of course, it didn’t really matter what she thought of him. She doubted he thought about her as being anything other Ethan’s sister-in-law and a nosy editor.

  Finally, she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Have you learned anything yet?”

  Rod glanced up from the screen. “Did Sherri mention any problems at home in March?”

  Meg blinked. “That was two kidnappings and two weddings ago in our family. Can you be more specific?”

  “Did she say anything about having a problem with Kyle?”

  “Kyle?” Her hands tightened on the wheel. “No. Did he hurt her?”

  “Not physically. She found out something about him, something that disturbed her enough she was afraid to go to Ty or the Senator with it.”

  “Did she say what it was or are you holding that back because of your investigation?”

  “Didn’t say from what I’ve read so far.”

  Sherri was concerned about Ty’s reaction? Meg frowned. She knew from discussions with Sherri the last few months that Ty felt increasingly distant, separated from his brother and father. Sherri thought that same distance was creeping into her marriage as well. That was why she’d begun pushing Ty so hard to have a baby. She hoped a child would bring them closer, weave tighter bonds in their marriage. Did Ty’s adoption have anything to do with Sherri’s murder?

  “What?”

  She glanced at his face, fighting a smile. He’d keyed into her facial expressions again. How interesting. “I wonder if Ty’s adoption has anything to do with this.”

  “How?”

  “I’m not sure. I just know Sherri mentioned Ty was thinking about trying to find his birth mother. The Senator doesn’t want him to and that’s causing friction between them.”

  “How does that tie into Kyle?”