Uncovered: A Hearts of the South story

by Linda Winfree

  The door swung open, Tick’s long strides quiet on the tile floor. He stopped beside her, a strong odor of peppermint clinging to him. A smile curved her mouth. So he was trying to cut the autopsy smell by popping mints, but what was he going to do about the sights and sounds?

  Ford flicked a glance at him. “Better now?”

  “Yeah.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “You have your choice of two possible causes of death.” Ford touched the skull with a gloved hand. “The fracture line here indicates massive blunt-force trauma. Enough to cause cerebral hemorrhage, which would have led to death without medical intervention.”

  “You said we have a choice?” Madeline scribbled another note.

  Ford pointed to the ribs laid out in meticulous order. “See these marks?”

  Faint lines marred the yellowed bones, jagged lighter areas. Tick’s expression tightened. “She was stabbed.”

  “Multiple times. So…she could have bled out from that.”

  Madeline rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the tightness there. “Anything that might give us an idea how long she’s been down there?”

  “The bones are clean, so we’re talking at least five years. But you didn’t find any remnants of female clothing with her, which means she was probably buried nude. No jewelry or other objects which might help us place her in a specific time.”

  Tick heaved a sigh. “Great.”

  “Listen,” Ford said, “if I come up with something else, I’ll give you a call. But don’t count on it. If you come up with dental records from a missing-person file, send them over, and I’ll do a comparison.”

  “Thanks, Ford.”

  Outside, Tick dragged in audible gulps of air. Madeline took the high road and refrained from ragging his ass about the fact he’d basically gotten grossed out and tossed his cookies. She’d save that button to push later when he was being an ass.

  She unlocked the patrol car. “This case is going to be a bitch.”

  Tick grimaced at her over the roof. “What do you care? You’re not going to be here.”

  Anger trembled to life in her, and she opened her mouth to tell him where he could go.

  Instead, she snapped it shut. Of course, he was right. Cold cases could take weeks, months to solve. She wouldn’t be here that long.

  Why that thought sent a pang through her was beyond comprehension.

  Chandler County was the last place she wanted to be, wasn’t it?

  Chapter Seven

  Ash leaned against the hood of his truck and glanced at his watch again. He was early, but Tick needed to get a move on. It was icy cold, a sharp wind blowing beneath low, angry clouds, and the lunch rush was about to be in full swing. A familiar rumble caught his ear, and he levered away from the truck. Tick was on time for once. Maybe that explained the sudden cold weather—hell had finally frozen over.

  Tick maneuvered his white 4x4 into a slot near the end of the pecan grove that served as the Hickory House’s parking lot. Ash met him at the edge of the gravel driveway. Dark hair ruffled by the wind, Tick ducked his head and flipped the collar up on his black duty jacket. “Hey.”

  Ash nodded. “Thanks for coming.”

  Tick shoved his hands in his coat pockets as they walked toward the front door. “What’s up?”

  With a glance around at the patrons already in line, Ash pitched his voice low. “I need to ask you about Madeline.”

  “Ah, holy hell.” Tick’s words emerged on a muffled groan.

  “I know you don’t like her, but—”

  “Ask Stanton. Or Autry.”

  They paused in front of the cashier. Tick stared up at the menu he knew by heart, his face tense.

  “I just want to ask you a couple of questions.”

  “You’re going to make me break the rule.”

  Ash swallowed a laugh at Tick’s disgruntled tone. His baby sister wasn’t the only one who could sulk. “What rule?”

  “The one where I don’t interfere in my friends’ relationships with women.” He rolled his shoulders. “I don’t want to get into this…thing…with you and her.”

  The blonde cashier pinned them with a look. “Boys, are you going to order or just stand here all day?”

  “Sorry, Gayle.” Ash pulled out his wallet while Tick reached for his. “Let me get a turkey platter and a sweet tea.”

  “Pork sandwich and coffee.”

  Gayle nodded and handed Ash his change. The door tinkled open behind them.

  “How’s the baby?” she asked, preparing to ring up Tick’s order.

  “Good. He’s—”

  “I’ve got his, Gayle.” A thin female hand with bright pink nails closed on Tick’s as he went to hand Gayle a ten. Tick stiffened visibly, and startled, Ash glanced down at the blonde who’d stopped by them. She was pretty enough, delicate features, big blue eyes, but still a little rough around the edges—lines fanning out from her eyes, the blonde a little too bright.

  Those blue eyes were pinned on Tick, and she shook her head, still holding his hand as he opened his mouth to protest. “Don’t say no. I owe you for rescuing me last night.”

  “No rescue to it.” Tick tried to extricate his hand, and Ash covered a grin. Tick glowered in his direction. “I didn’t do much.”

  “Listen, the way Willow was smiling this morning, you’re the equivalent of Santa and Mother Teresa rolled into one.” She fixed Gayle, who was watching avidly, with a bright smile. “I’m paying for his lunch. Can you add on a chef salad and a diet Coke too?”

  “Sure thing.” Gayle glanced between them, obviously waiting for Tick to protest again. He eyed the line forming behind them, and Ash could see him give in. He returned his wallet to his back pocket, and the blonde beamed in triumph.

  “Thanks.” Tick’s smile was a shade too tight, but Ash doubted the woman noticed.

  With a wave, she disappeared into the restroom on the pretext of washing up.

  “Who was that?” Ash led the way toward their usual table in the far corner of the back dining room. The heater was turned up, blasting hot, dry air into the room.

  “Tell you later.” Tick didn’t look back. “Gayle on the phone yet?”

  Ash tossed a casual check over his shoulder. “Yep.”

  “Damn it.” Tick jerked out his chair and shrugged out of his jacket in terse movements. He draped it over the back. “It’ll be all over the county before suppertime tonight.”

  Humor quirked at Ash’s mouth. “Oh, yeah. Cait’s gonna give you hell too.”

  “She’s already playing this one for all it’s worth, believe me.” Tick unrolled his silverware. “At least the rumor mill will have something new to talk about for a few days.”

  Ash nodded at the waitress as she set their drinks before them. Steam drifted lazily from Tick’s coffee. Tick frowned at the bubbling cola the girl placed at his elbow. “Wait, this one’s—”

  “Do y’all mind if I join you? My coworker just called, and she can’t make it.” The blonde slipped adroitly into the chair next to Tick’s. She touched his forearm with a light hand. “It would be so fun to catch up.”

  She graced Ash with one of those high-wattage beams, obviously waiting to be introduced. Tick met Ash’s gaze with an apparent how-do-I-get-out-of-this-one expression. Ash half-lifted his brows, resigned to not getting the answers he’d wanted about Madeline. Not at this meal, anyway.

  He extended his hand. “Ash Hardison.”

  “Allison Barnett. Nice to meet you.” She’d tilted her chair so she was half-facing Tick. With an impish twinkle in her eyes, she gestured between her shoulder and his. “We were high school sweethearts.”

  “Really?” Ash muffled a guffaw. Yeah, he could see Caitlin giving Tick a fit with this scenario. Hell, he planned on giving the guy as much guff as possible later over it. Tick knew it too, eyeing him with a killing, doleful look. “I can’t wait to hear more.”

  Allison scooted her chair closer to Tick’s. “Oh, this is going
to be so much fun.”

  Tick shifted and Ash moved his ankle before his friend could kick him under the table. Ash covered another grin with his injured hand, some of the tension he’d carried with him since that scene with Madeline finally falling away. Miss High School Sweetheart was right. This was going to be a blast.

  “Madeline?”

  At the door to the Bistro, where she was supposed to meet Autry for lunch, Madeline turned. Caitlin Falconetti approached, baby carrier on one arm.

  “Hi.” She smiled, a relatively genuine curve of her lips. “I’m supposed to waylay you, grab us a table and let you know Autry’s been delayed but will be here soon.”

  “Thanks.” Madeline lifted an eyebrow and swung the door open. She hadn’t been aware this was a group lunch. Not that she should be surprised. Sisterly bonding had never been high on her and Autry’s list of things to do.

  Madeline glanced in the baby carrier as she held the door for Caitlin’s entrance. Warmly bundled, Lee dozed in utter peace, his little lips pursed. He didn’t flinch at the steady buzz of conversation inside the high-ceilinged Bistro, Coney’s trendiest restaurant, in what had once been the Chevrolet dealership. The concrete floors, now polished, sported a marbled faux finish and black paint covered the walls. Huge plate-glass windows afforded patrons a panoramic view of downtown Coney.

  She followed Caitlin to a table in the far left corner. Caitlin settled Lee’s carrier in a chair, turning him and lifting a plaid canopy so the streaming sunlight didn’t hit his face.

  Madeline took the seat opposite and fiddled with the laminated menu. “Figured if you were in town, you’d have lunch with Tick.”

  “That was my plan, actually.” Caitlin tucked the blanket more firmly about the baby. “But when I called, he already had plans with Ash.”

  Madeline’s stomach dropped. She covered it by shaking out her linen napkin and perusing the menu, although none of the offerings registered. When the smiling hostess approached, gratitude speared through Madeline as Caitlin asked for a few minutes before their other party arrived. With a nod and their drink orders, the redhead walked away again.

  The baby settled, Caitlin crossed one leg over the other and rested her hands on her knee. “So have your first couple of days gone well?”

  Oh yeah, riding around trapped with your son-of-a-bitch husband has been just peachy.

  One of Caitlin’s neat brows arched, and for a second Madeline thought maybe the thought had come out aloud. She pulled in a sharp breath.

  “Asinine question, right?” Caitlin leaned back, her dark green gaze steady on Madeline’s face. “The way you feel about this place, none of your days here can be good.”

  The inhale she’d just taken whooshed out in surprise. That level of directness simply didn’t exist in this town, where everyone danced around the truth or outright buried it.

  She started to dispute the statement but swallowed the words. No, none of the days since she’d arrived home—here—had been good. Memories of being in Ash’s bed, his arms about her, his deep voice whispering in the dark, curled about her, and she shoved them down. That was nothing, and even if it had been something, it lay ruined now.

  Caitlin tilted her head, a winsome expression lifting the corner of her mouth. “I’ve left you speechless. Guess I shouldn’t ask you why you came here, if you hate it so badly.”

  “Lady, you don’t belong.” Madeline reached for the unsweetened ice tea the hostess had brought. She choked down a couple of swallows. “What the hell are you doing here? And don’t say it’s obvious. Because I don’t get what the hell you’re doing with him, either.”

  Caitlin’s husky laugh held real humor. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

  “Neither do you.”

  “What am I doing here?” Caitlin lifted one shoulder in a graceful shrug. “This was more important to Tick than Virginia was to me. I can profile from anywhere. He offered to go back to the Bureau, but I wouldn’t ask that of him. He loves this place, loves what he does.”

  Madeline glanced away, watching the traffic and a couple of young mothers in the park across the street. Anything she would say in response to that would come out rude.

  And probably hateful.

  She was going to learn to control her damn mouth when she was here if it killed her.

  “Stop overthinking.” The cat-and-mouse smile appeared once more. “You’re not going to offend me, Madeline. Believe me.”

  “Stop profiling me.”

  “I can’t help it.” Caitlin shrugged again. “Second nature when someone intrigues me.”

  Nerves trilled along under Madeline’s skin. “We haven’t known one another long enough for me to intrigue you.”

  “Doesn’t matter. The way Tick tenses up when you walk in or someone mentions your name? Trust me, I’m going to be all over that.”

  “You don’t have to worry that your husband and I are into each other.” Madeline reached for her tea once more. This conversation struck way too close.

  “I’m not. It’s not sexual tension. It’s…” Caitlin shook her head. “If I say it, then I’ll be offending you.”

  Oh, great. “Go for it, Falconetti.”

  “Remember you asked for it, Holton. All right. What I read in Tick when you’re around?” Caitlin leaned forward, her eyes intense. “It’s the same tension I feel in him when someone brings up Billy Reese or Jeffrey Schaefer or Benjamin Fuller. I can’t help wondering what puts you in the same category in his head.”

  Madeline didn’t have a clue who Benjamin Fuller was, but Reese and Schaefer? She was on level with a rapist and a serial killer. That shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t matter, but shit damn fuck, it did.

  Because even if Caitlin couldn’t make the connection, Madeline could. Being in that elite company made her someone who destroyed lives. Sweat beaded on her upper lip and she set the glass down before she dropped it. God, that’s who she was too. It didn’t matter if she left Chandler County or went back to Jacksonville or moved on somewhere else. Where she was didn’t matter because she couldn’t change who she was.

  Or what she’d done.

  “Madeline.” Something about the soft way Caitlin spoke her name pulled her back to the awareness that Caitlin had probably called her more than once. Caitlin’s quiet watchfulness held a note of concern now, and Madeline looked away from that inscrutable gaze that saw too much. Caitlin touched the back of her hand quickly and withdrew. “It’s going to be all right. You get through it.”

  “Don’t say that to me. You have no clue. You don’t know me or anything about me. You know jack shit, Agent, so don’t go blowing sunshine up my ass about how I’m going to survive this. You don’t know what this is, so you can’t get that there is no—”

  Horrified, she shut her mouth. Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked, turning away.

  “That’s right. I don’t know. I can’t.” Intensity vibrated in Caitlin’s husky tone. “But I know what it’s like to be dead-bottom, where there’s absolutely nothing left and nowhere to go.”

  “No, you don’t.” Madeline shook back her hair and tipped up her chin, put on her best fuck-the-world persona, narrowed her eyes at the calm woman looking back at her. “People like you never get it.”

  “People like me.” Irony shimmered in the words, and Caitlin turned her gaze away, leaving Madeline with the same sensation she’d felt with Tick earlier—that there was a private joke she wasn’t privy to. “What are you doing here, Madeline?”

  Pulled together again, Madeline glared. “What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t have to be here. There are a thousand other places you could have gone.” Caitlin leaned forward. “You’re here, because on some level, you want—or need—to be.”

  “Knock off the profiling bit, Falconetti.” Mirroring Caitin’s posture, Madeline dropped her tone to the one she used when questioning an uncooperative suspect. “You know nothing about me.”

  “You might be surprised.”
Caitlin flicked a negligent gesture toward the front window. “There’s your sister. And Tori.”

  Fuuuuck. Not sparkly, perky little Tori Calvert. Not in conjunction with smooth, polite, perfect Autry. She remembered her grandmother’s warnings about people struck down instantly by the wrath of God. What did she have to do to arrange that?

  Aware of Caitlin’s steady gaze, Madeline endured the next few minutes as her sister kissed her, Tori bestowed one of her trademark hugs, and both women cooed quietly over the still-sleeping baby.

  Tori was her normal Homecoming-Queen-on-speed self, smiling and bubbling over with conversation. Just being in her vicinity made Madeline tired. The younger woman shook out her napkin and placed it in her lap before leaning forward, her big dark eyes sparkling. “Well, the gossip mill is at work extra hard today. Guess who’s in the middle of it again?”

  “Tick, I’m sure.” Caitlin rested her chin on her hand. “What now?”

  “Honey, you better watch out.” Autry actually giggled, her blue eyes brimming with mirthful teasing. “You have competition.”

  The rock of foreboding settled in Madeline’s chest.

  Caitlin looked between her sister-in-law and Madeline’s sister with an indulgent, exasperated expression. “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, the word from the Tank and Tummy is that an old flame just bought him lunch over at the Hickory House.”

  “He went to lunch there with Ash.” Caitlin lifted her water. “What’s this about an old flame…wait. Not Allison Barnett?”

  Autry stared. “How did you know that?”

  “She called him at home last night to open up her house, which is a closed crime scene.” Caitlin waved a dismissive hand. “Makes sense she’d do something as a thank-you.”

  Heat, followed by a chill, flashed over Madeline’s body. Nothing Allison had ever done made sense.

  “Well, he should have better sense than to let her sit at the table with him and Ash, even if he did let her pay.” Tori sprinkled sugar into her tea. “He knows how Gayle is and once Jeannette at the Tank and Tummy got a hold of it… Lord, someone will call Aunt Maureen, who’ll tell Mama and she never liked Allison anyway. Next thing you know, the story will be he’s having some wild affair.”