Uncovered: A Hearts of the South story

by Linda Winfree

  He punched the phone on and lifted it to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Calvert, how the hell are you?” Agent Harrell Beecham’s familiar voice filled his ear, and he relaxed.

  “Hey, Beech.” He tossed his feet up on the ottoman. Caitlin caught his eye and smiled. Beecham had been at Quantico with them, and over the years, both of them had worked FBI cases with him, Tick more so because he and Beecham had both been with the Bureau’s Organized Crime Division. “What’s up?”

  “That’s what I’m calling to ask you.” On Beecham’s end of the connection, paper rustled. “Want to tell me why you’re running a background check on Nick Hall?”

  “Nick Hall?” Tick flipped rapidly through the papers before him. If he’d triggered the OCD by checking up on the guy, he didn’t qualify as normal.

  “Yeah, Nick Hall.”

  “Am I stepping on the Bureau’s toes?” Here it was—Nicholas Randall Hall. He’d been living in the house on Miller Court between August and November…and Kelly had left Florida, they believed, in September. Hot damn, this was it, he could feel it.

  “Not stepping on our toes, per se. Let’s just say we’d like to know what your interest is.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you know about Mr. Hall?” Tick skimmed the information he had. Couple of speeding tickets, arrest for drunk and disorderly, another for writing a bad check. What did the FBI want with this guy?

  “Calvert.”

  Tick crossed one ankle over the other. “He might be connected to an old murder down here. What have you got?”

  “Now, not much. The boy’s gone and found religion, turned his life around.” Cynicism lurked in Beecham’s normally dry tone. “He’s been clean for at least six months.”

  “Wow. Six whole months.”

  “Yeah. Imagine that.”

  “So why’s the OCD interested in him?”

  “Well, his brother hasn’t found religion yet. He’s still following the tenets of the Southern Brotherhood, even though Nicky left months ago. We’re keeping tabs on Nicky, hoping it will give us some insight into Jake’s activities.”

  The Southern Brotherhood. Holy hell. Sheer excitement sizzled through him. “Beech, you just made my damn year.”

  “Glad to help. Listen, anything you find on Nick, I want to know first, okay, man? Interdepartmental sharing and all that bullshit.”

  “Bullshit is right.” A grin quirked at his mouth. If he could make this link, if it played out like he thought it would, Allison was on her way down. Hell, Madeline deserved to be the one slapping the cuffs on her. He’d make sure she got that chance. “Only reason you’re calling me is because you think I might have something. Gotta go, Beech.”

  “Calvert, wait—”

  He killed the connection and dropped the phone, flipping for the next page. There had to be a current address here. Had to be.

  Caitlin laughed. “Did you just hang up on him?”

  “Um, yeah.” Shit, where was page six?

  “Are you going to share what has you so wound up?”

  “This guy…the one who lived in the house during the time we think Kelly came back from Florida.” Damn it, he had page five, page seven…what had he done with page six? Ah, hell. Either it hadn’t printed or he’d missed it somehow, and it was still on his desk. How bad would Caitlin bitch him out if he went back to the office?

  “Yes?” Indulgent affection colored the syllable. Probably not too much bitching.

  “He was in the Southern Brotherhood.” He grabbed his shoes by the chair and tugged them on.

  “Really.” Intrigue flared in Caitlin’s eyes. She perched on the edge of the coffee table. “Just like Allison’s second husband.”

  “Right.” He shuffled the papers he had back into their file.

  Caitlin frowned. “Where are you going?”

  “Left the paper I need at the office.” On his feet, he leaned over and kissed her. “I want to go by the hospital, show this to Madeline.”

  “How do you know she’s there?”

  “Because.” He couldn’t resist leaning in for one more kiss. “You said you thought that’s where she headed. You’re hardly ever wrong about people, and I know Ash—once he got her there, he’d do everything in his power to keep her.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Madeline drifted into awareness. Her arm, twisted beneath her, buzzed with sleeping nerves, and her neck protested its angle, sending twinges of discomfort down her nape. However, warmth pressed along her front, strong fingers cupped her rib cage and unaccustomed security wrapped around her. Her lashes fluttered up, and she lifted her head, the discomfort flaring into real pain. God, her neck hurt.

  Quiet voices echoed in the still hallway beyond the door. Light from the security lamps in the parking lot cast a bluish glow in the room. She raised her arm, peering at her watch. Almost nine. Hell, the nurses had to have been in here at least five times in the last few hours. Had she slept through all that? Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. What would they think of her, sleeping in Ash’s hospital bed?

  “I made them leave you alone,” he murmured, eyes closed. “You needed the rest.”

  She hadn’t spoken aloud, so how did he…? She propped up on her elbow, awakening nerves sending tingles up and down her skin. “How did you—”

  “I’ve figured out how you think.” Humor lurked beneath the pain and drugs slurring his voice. “Then you were worrying about what they would think, which really doesn’t matter a damn. Next up is the whole ‘I scare the hell out of you’ thing again.”

  “You do,” she said, her voice shaky. Actually, not so much him—but how he made her feel, like being drawn to the edge of a canyon, wanting to capture its wonders, yet being afraid of falling over the precipice at the same time.

  He opened his eyes, the pale green depths dark with quiet emotion. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me, ever. I wouldn’t hurt you, Mad.”

  For a long moment, she stared into those eyes then slowly lowered her head to close the gap between them. She kissed him, his mouth warm and supple beneath hers. Making a low sound in his throat, he speared his left hand into her hair, deepening a kiss that was at once both hungry and tender.

  He moved his hand, cradling her face, easing back to whisper his lips over her eyelids, one cheekbone, the corner of her mouth. Soft feathery kisses that made her chest hurt. Tears stung her eyes.

  “Everything is so damn good with you,” she murmured.

  “If you say you don’t deserve it”—he gripped her chin in a gentle hand and made her meet his gaze—“hell, if you even think it, I swear to God I’ll spank you.”

  A tremulous smile shaped her mouth. “Is that a promise?”

  His eyes flared, and a deep chuckle rumbled between them, at least until he cut it short, a hand over his chest. “Shit, babe, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

  She touched her fingers to his jaw. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He turned his head to brush a kiss over her palm. The sense of rightness settled over her again, and she pressed her eyes closed. Walking away from him would be incredibly hard, but she had to go. She couldn’t stay here, not here.

  Could she?

  His arm tightened about her, pulling her against him for a moment. He rested his mouth against her brow, and a shuddery breath moved through his strong frame.

  “Mad,” he whispered, warm breath shivering over her skin, “I love you.”

  She froze, her ability to breathe gone, just like that. He had not just said those words. She jerked back, her eyes snapping open.

  He waited, watching her with a resigned expression. The hopelessness in his gaze made her want to cry. She would have, if the fear hadn’t iced over everything within her.

  “Ash, don’t say that. Don’t go there. Not with me. Please.”

  His mouth drew into a tight line, and he looked away. His silence only made the ice inside her that much worse.

  She shook her head. “You don’t
understand. I’m not…I can’t…I told you from the beginning, I’m not in the—”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit.” A subdued anger trembled in his voice, although she felt the emotion was directed as much at himself as at her. “Just don’t. I shouldn’t have said anything. It was…I just shouldn’t have.”

  He rubbed a hand down his face, and everything inside her seemed to fold in on itself. The sweetness and warmth and rightness evaporated, dissipating like dew under the onslaught of a summer sun. She shivered. The loss of those pure emotions left her empty and wanting them back.

  But not enough to pretend to be something she wasn’t. Easing away from him, she shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. She darted a quick look at the door and rubbed her hands down her arms. Old instincts tried to urge her toward the door, telling her to run.

  Something new and quiet bade her stay, even with the tension thick and heavy in the room. She feathered a hand through her hair. “I don’t know what to say.”

  He watched her, the bleakness gone from his eyes, replaced with a gleam of hope. “You don’t have to say anything. The fact you’re not already out the door is enough for now.”

  “You’re so easy to please.” She tried to laugh at her own dismal joke and failed.

  “Not really.” He didn’t smile. “But the first thing I learned in military school was that each victory in a small battle is one step toward winning the whole damn war.”

  “Battle? Are you trying to conquer me?”

  He didn’t respond to her tiny attempt at wry humor. “Not you. That fear you wear like a Kevlar vest. I want you to live, Madeline, whether it’s with me or not. You—”

  “Deserve that?” A shaky smile hitched at the corner of her mouth.

  “Yes. You do.” Brows lowered, he watched her. “Don’t let what I said…the way I feel about you…don’t let that come between us, Madeline. I’m not rushing you, not expecting anything in return right how. I just want you.”

  Her eyes burned, a wash of tears casting the room in a shimmering haze. No one had ever wanted just her. Her body, yes. Her? No one.

  He jerked his chin in a come-hither gesture. “Get over here.”

  Her breath caught. She hadn’t lost him because of her extreme reaction to his declaration, because she couldn’t return it yet. She turned into his embrace, resting her head carefully against his chest, the steady beat of his pulse under her ear spreading peace and warmth through her.

  “I shouldn’t have said it yet. It’s way too soon for you to hear that from me,” he murmured, sifting his fingers through her hair. “But I’m glad I did.”

  So was she. Even as much as they frightened her, she could cherish the words, cherish the man who’d given them to her so freely. She smoothed her fingers over his chest, the thin hospital gown slightly rough under her touch.

  “So am I,” she whispered.

  Footsteps, with a familiar cadence, sounded in the hallway. She frowned, and Ash’s fingers stilled in her hair.

  “That’s Tick,” he said, just moments before a rap came at the door and it swung inward. Madeline jerked to sit on the mattress edge and swiped at her eyes, her back to him.

  “Hey. Sorry to interrupt.” A hint of sheepishness colored Tick’s voice but didn’t quite disguise the notes of excitement and adrenaline. Certainty speared through her. He had a lead. She rubbed at her damp eyes again and turned sideways to face him. Sure enough, he slapped a rolled up paper against his palm, the thrill of the chase gleaming in his dark gaze. “Madeline, can I talk to you a minute?”

  With a nod, she laid her palm on Ash’s stomach. His pulse beat there too, strong and sure, beneath her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

  Uncaring of Tick’s presence, she leaned down to brush her mouth over Ash’s and caught the flare of what that meant to him in his eyes before she slid from the bed. She pointed toward the hallway. “Let’s go to the waiting area.”

  Outside, she slanted a curious look at Tick. God, he practically vibrated with energy. “What’s going on?”

  He grinned. “I think I can tie Allison to the house.”

  A glimmer of his excitement flared in her. “Really?”

  “Yeah. How do you feel about riding over to Moultrie?”

  “Now?” She took a quick look at her watch.

  “Well, tomorrow morning.” A guilty grin curved his mouth but did little to diminish the glow in his dark eyes. “I think if I tried to take off tonight, Cait would have a fit. I told her I’d only be gone a half hour or so.”

  “So why are we going to Moultrie?”

  She listened as he explained how their background checks on the former tenants of the Miller Court house had triggered a call from an old buddy with the FBI. “Anyway, this guy was a member of the Southern Brotherhood motorcycle club. Coincidentally enough, so was Allison’s second husband.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences, Calvert.”

  “Yeah.” He grinned again. “Me, neither. Listen, as soon as that warrant clears for Allison’s computer, Cookie’ll be all over it.”

  “Sure.” She tousled hair that had to be a mess already. “Thanks.”

  He tilted his head toward the hallway. “I’m going to take off. Good night.”

  “Good night,” she echoed. Once he was gone, she slipped back into Ash’s room. He slept, lingering pain still dragging at his features. She curled into the stiff armchair, her gaze on his face. Arms tucked around her updrawn knees, she rested her head against the chair back. Going to her mother’s for the night was out of the question, and she couldn’t go to Ash’s either. No sense in checking into a hotel.

  Besides, he was here, and that made this the only place she really wanted to be.

  ***

  The neat neighborhood made up of late-model mobile homes and landscaped yards lay far out in the country, closer to Adel than Moultrie. Tall woods rose on either side of the highway, the area familiar to Madeline from her childhood when her grandpa had taken her to Reed Bingham State Park for fishing expeditions. Tiny remnants of grief pinched at her heart. She’d been happy then, even at home, in the days before Mama’s moods grew more and more unpredictable after Madeline’s brother had been born.

  She rubbed a thumb over the door handle, gazing out at pines and scrub oaks while Tick drove. Were there other good memories, times with her father and mother, that she’d buried away under the pain of separation and loss? If so, they were so far beneath the bad memories she couldn’t find them any longer.

  But the minutes and hours spent with her Grandpa Holton remained clear and strong in her head. She could almost feel what it had been like to be wrapped in one of his bear hugs, whiskers scratching her cheek, Old Spice and peach snuff surrounding her, while her entire being was blanketed by the assurance that she was loved, treasured.

  Valued. Accepted. Wanted.

  The way Ash made her feel. She scraped a fingernail across her lips. He said he loved her. God, she believed him.

  That made her happy on a level that scared the cold living shit out of her.

  What was she going to do about him?

  “Do about who?” Tick’s soft laugh pulled her from the reverie, and she stared at him. Shit damn fuck, had she said that aloud? He slanted an amused look in her direction. “You were mumbling.”

  She folded her arms. “I was thinking.”

  He was quiet a long moment. “So what are you going to do?”

  Her gaze flew to his face. How did he…?

  “I mean, are you still planning to go back to Jacksonville?”

  She finally caught her breath and snapped her mouth closed. “I-I don’t know. It’s moot right now, anyway. They haven’t cleared up Jack’s…the shooting.”

  “I owe you an apology.” He cleared his throat, a raw sound. “I was really hard on you about that when you came, and I shouldn’t have been running my mouth.”

  That floored her about as much as Ash’s declaration of love. She stared at him. Having him apol
ogize would have been like having her daddy admit he’d been wrong—something she’d never expect to hear.

  She swallowed. “Thank you.”

  He flashed a quick grin and swung into a right-hand turn, taking them into Nick Hall’s neighborhood. “How was Ash this morning?”

  “Good.” She ran her thumbnail along the seam of her tweed slacks, remembering the sweet sleepy smile he’d graced her with when she leaned down to kiss him goodbye. “The swelling’s down enough they can make the repair to his knee, according to Dr. Mackey. It’s not supposed to be a major procedure.”

  Tick shook his head, squinting at numbers on mailboxes. “It’s not. One of our deputies had it done last year after he twisted his knee during training. They did his as an outpatient procedure, and he was only off duty for two or three weeks afterward.”

  She nodded, the minor worry still twisting through her. Maybe she should have stayed with him, but he’d assured her he’d be fine. Besides, it wasn’t like she was his wife or they had a real commitment between them anyway.

  But he’d said he loved her. All of it kept tumbling through her head, including Tick’s question about her intentions regarding Jacksonville. What would she do, if or when they called her back to duty?

  Tick braked. “This is it.”

  Madeline looked across the wide yard at the white doublewide. A neat porch had been added on the front, providing a welcoming haven with wicker furniture and winter-hardy plants.

  Tick pulled to a stop behind a beige Ford SUV. “Ready?”

  To find out what had happened to Kelly, to give her justice? More than ready. “Let’s go.”

  She strode with him up the stepping-stone walkway. The screen door squeaked as Tick pulled it open. Madeline reached forward to knock at the glass-paneled door. Moments later, a lean bald man appeared and swung the door open.

  “Nick Hall?” Tick asked.

  “Yes.” The man frowned. “Can I help you?”

  Tick held his credentials aloft. “Investigator Calvert, Chandler County Sheriff’s Department. This is Investigator Holton.”