The tension rolling off of the Irishman made the hairs rise on the back of her neck. She shifted in her chair to see what Con was looking at, and the good mood she’d been in drained away.
“I can’t believe this.” She moved to stand, but Con’s hand on her arm stilled her.
“Don’t. Maybe he won’t see you and we can find out what he’s up to.”
She turned sharply and glared at him. “My father is having lunch with the sheriff’s rival in the election. What the heck do you think he’s up to?”
“Jolie, listen to me. Your da’ has every right to have lunch with whomever he pleases.”
“But not when his daughter has a say in this.” She moved, again, to try to leave, but Con’s grip tightened.
“Do you need a lesson in covert activities, Deputy? Keep your seat.”
Doing as he ordered, Jolie watched as Dad and Donovan Frost headed for a table on the other side of the counter. Once the two men sat, they disappeared from view.
“Good, he didn’t see us,” Con muttered.
“I don’t get it. He should be supporting Hamilton.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t your da’ upset with Hamilton over the way your brother’s situation was handled?”
Sagging in her seat, Jolie crossed her arms, reining in the angry tide rising in her chest. Dad had been furious with Hamilton—and the whole department, in fact, except Jolie—for letting Ian get away with murder and robbery. It didn’t matter that no one had been aware of her brother’s activities until almost the last minute. And it certainly didn’t matter to Dad that if not for Cassy’s tenacity and quick thinking, Ian might have joined his partner in death.
“He knows that when people see him with someone who is running for election, it means he’s supporting them. And then the voters will make the switch.” She smacked her hand on the tabletop, rattling the silverware. “That’s got to be why the sheriff looks like he’s got an ulcer. I betcha anything Dad has made a point to ‘tell’ him who he’s voting for.”
“Jolie, you’re jumping to conclusions.”
She leaned forward, pinning Con with her gaze. “I know my father, Detective. And I know when he’s got a bone to pick he picks it right down to the marrow.”
The waitress arrived with their food, Jolie’s statement hanging between them like a snake ready to strike. Once the plates were set before them, the young woman hightailed it out of there.
Jolie locked gazes with Con, daring him to contradict her.
“I’m not disagreeing with you. I’m warning you to take a step back and gather your facts before you go for his throat. That’s how a good investigator works. And if Hamilton is hell-bent on turning you into one, you need to make that priority number one.”
“This was simpler when I just had to worry about traffic tickets and serving warrants.”
“Welcome to the family, Deputy. Now, what do you have for me on the Grace Maddox case?”
• • •
Xavier was going stir-crazy. Shut up in the house with a sullen Zac, who sported a nice shiner on his right eye from where Xavier had managed to land a punch, and a pissed-off Ariel, who was furious with him for keeping from her the fact that he was somehow involved in the death of a man—it all made his once quiet safe haven not so quiet or safe.
Maybe he was a glutton for punishment, or perhaps just downright daft, but he was going to chance a confrontation with his siblings.
Sitting in a chair across from Ariel, he stared at her until she finally dragged her gaze from the book she was reading and glared back.
“What?”
Her retort drew Zac’s attention.
“I’m sorry. Sorry I didn’t tell you what was going on right away. And I’m sorry that I put the fear of God into the both of you last night.”
“And you think that’s just going to make it all better?” Zac asked.
“No, but I’m hoping it’ll help you understand what’s been going on inside my head. This is all one big mess, and I have no idea what it’s all about and how I got involved.”
Ariel snapped her book shut and dropped it on the sofa beside her. “All the more reason why you shouldn’t have come here in the first place. You’ve gone this long never telling anyone the truth, so why in the last few years did it become so damn important?”
“Death, Ariel. Death made it so damn important. When you’ve looked that abyss straight in the eye and walked away, then maybe you’ll understand.”
“Maybe one day I will, but right now, none of us know what to do with you, Xavier. Last night won’t be the last time you have a flashback. Do you think that’s what happened with this dead guy? Did you have a flashback and in the midst accidentally kill a man?”
Burying his fingers in his hair, Xavier bowed his head. “I don’t know, Ariel. I don’t know what happened after I arrived at the park. Even things up to that point are hazy and only come to me in snippets.” He looked up at her. “I told you it was a mess. And now I’m looking at the real possibility of being arrested for it. And I have no clue what I did.”
“Why couldn’t you just tell me this in the first place? There was no reason to keep it a secret.”
“You don’t exactly react in the best way, sis, and this morning when the sheriff came was proof of that.”
“He’s right, ya know,” Zac said.
Ariel scowled at their younger brother. “You pipe down. You don’t look all that surprised at what he’s telling us. Why’s that?”
Xavier swiveled his head to get a good look at his brother. At the hospital he’d gotten the sense that Zac did know something, but Xavier hadn’t cornered him on it. Too many surprise visits from Deputy Jolie Murdoch to distract him.
“I got it out of Deputy Murdoch when Xavier was in the hospital.”
Ariel sputtered. No doubt her brain couldn’t wrap around the idea that Zac knew something before she did. “And you couldn’t be bothered with informing me?” Her piercing gaze pinned Xavier. “And what is the deal with that Deputy Murdoch? She seems to pop up all over the place where it concerns you.”
“She’s just doing her job as she’s ordered. Nothing more to it.”
The scrutinizing stare from Ariel made him twitchy. He pushed himself upright.
“Apology accepted?” he asked. Hopefully, Ariel wouldn’t hold this against him for the rest of his life.
She huffed. His sister was quick when it came to accepting defeat, because when it boiled down to it, he wasn’t her responsibility and she had no recourse.
“I guess, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you for hiding this from me.”
“If this is you being mad at me, I don’t want to see you when you’re really pissed.” He gave her a quick smile and then bent over to kiss the top of her head. “I love you, sis, but sometimes you need to lighten up.”
She swatted the side of his leg as he moved away. “If things are going to go wrong for you, don’t you think it’s time to reveal your little secret to those who need to know?”
Pausing near the dining room doorway, he turned back to his siblings. Zac gazed up at him, the expression on his face mimicking Ariel’s question.
“I don’t know. The time just hasn’t been right.”
“Well, you better make it right, or it’s going to be too late.”
Chapter Fourteen
As Jolie was finishing with Con, there was a shift in the atmosphere around them, and she looked up from arranging the files in her satchel. Anger surged red hot through her veins. “Dad, what are you doing?”
“We were having lunch, and I thought I saw you over here.”
Jolie ignored Con’s nudge against her foot and glared at her father. While it wasn’t uncommon for him to have lunch now and again with United Church of Eider’s pastor, Josiah Richards, she was burning over the get-together with Donovan Frost, Hamilton’s competition. Next to her father, Frost flushed. Well, good for him, he should be embarrassed. Jolie gave Con a more
forceful nudge back. “I see. Well, sadly, Detective O’Hanlon and I were just leaving.”
Dad’s gaze flicked to Con. “Teaching her a few things, Detective? My girl was always a fast learner, and we can expect some good things from her.”
Oh, crap, here he goes again. Next he’ll be gushing about me taking over this county.
“Nothing to teach here, Eli. She’s pretty well set.” Con slowly rose to his feet. “If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen, we do need to get back to our duties.” The Irishman was a tall man, towering over all three of them, but he was shorter than Xavier and ten shades less menacing than the former marine.
Dad took hold of Jolie’s elbow. “Could I speak with you in private?” He began to drag her from the table.
Quickly, she snatched the strap of her bag and staggered after her dad, the satchel banging against her legs. Con would protect the reports and files from the prying eyes of the other two, but she couldn’t stomach having any of this out of her eyesight.
Dad propelled her past the restroom doors and out the back exit. Once outside, he closed the door with his foot, blocking her escape with a widespread stance, and crossed his arms. “What were you doing out and about yesterday with that bartender from The Killdeer Pub?”
Jolie’s grip on the satchel straps tightened. “I don’t see how that’s any business of yours.”
“It is my business when it concerns my daughter. If what I’m hearing is correct, you’re consorting with a suspected killer. How do you think that’s going to look in ten years when you run for sheriff?”
“Wait one minute. Where are you getting this ‘suspected killer’ crap from?”
“That doesn’t concern you.”
“Bullshit it doesn’t.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Watch your language. Your mother and I didn’t raise you that way.” He shook his head. “This is what happens when you hang around the likes of those Rivers women. Those two would have never even been considered for deputies when I was sheriff.”
“Dad, I’m not sixteen anymore; you can’t control my life or my actions. Who I choose to hang around with is my prerogative.”
“Not when it leaves a lasting impression on people. You have to stop and think about what’s good for your future, and those women and that bartender aren’t to be a part of it.”
Jolie slung the satchel over her shoulder. If only he wasn’t her father, she could slam the bag upside his head. “I’m not having this conversation, again, with you.” She moved to get past him, but he shifted to counter her effort.
“Just do as I say, and we can end this now.”
The exit door banged open, and Con stepped out. “Deputy Murdoch, we have a situation at the fairgrounds.”
Thank God for small miracles and situations at the fairgrounds. With a tilt of her chin, she maneuvered around her father. “The job calls.”
“We’ll finish this tonight when you get home.”
“I don’t live with you,” she reminded him for the umpteenth time as she passed under Con’s outstretched arm.
“At your house,” Dad said as the door closed behind her.
If I come home.
“What was that about?” Con asked.
“You don’t want to know. What’s the situation?”
“Just get in your car and get over there. I’ll be right behind you.”
• • •
Jolie stared, transfixed by the sight before her.
When the carnies had begun to open their gaming booths for the afternoon, the dart guy made a grisly discovery. Strapped to the large spinning wheel was a twenty-something man wearing an unbuttoned white shirt and jeans. He was gagged, barefoot, and littered with knives that pinned him to the board; some of the blades were buried in his groin, thighs, and armpits. Flies swarmed the booth, locating all available orifices to lay their eggs. The stench of bodily fluids and decay was getting worse as the sun poured on the heat.
Jolie squeezed her eyes shut and turned away, bile rising in her throat, threatening to choke her.
“How is it that no one heard, saw, or smelled anything?” Hamilton asked the carnival owner.
She didn’t hear the answer as she staggered away. Who could do such a thing? The white, unbuttoned shirt gave her pause, and she peeked back at the horrific sight. Could it be this was the guy she’d been chasing yesterday?
“Are you okay, Murdoch?”
She nodded. “I’ll be all right, Nash. I just need some air before I hurl.”
He directed her away from the scene. “Why don’t you stick with keeping the morbidly obsessed away from here, okay?” Deacon Nash was a former beat cop from Des Moines, and he’d seen his fair share of death on the streets before moving to Eider.
“I can handle that.”
When she arrived at a good point along the tape, a few people tried to ask her—playing on their supposed long history with her or her dad—what was going on. Refusing and rebuffing all the attempts gained Jolie lots of dirty looks and snide comments. Screw them. This was her job. She wasn’t their little Jolie Murdoch.
Until she spotted the one figure she did not want to see. Groaning, she tapped her radio. “Sheriff, my father is approaching, and I’m sure he’s going to demand to know what’s going on. Over.”
“Copy. I’m on my way.”
Sure enough, Dad changed directions, and he still had his entourage with him.
“Sir, he has some company, too. Over.”
Silence met her call to the sheriff, but if she had to guess, she was pretty certain he was cursing. Bracing for the onslaught, she drew in a breath. The small group came within conversational distance, and she put up her hand.
“Sirs, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises.”
Dad’s puckered face warned of a tongue lashing to come later, but he halted. He should know protocol demanded that he not interfere, and to let his daughter see to her duties. But he’d never been able to see past being her father.
Pastor Richards didn’t seem to get the hint. He inched around Dad and moved closer to the line. “Jolie, we heard there was a disturbing discovery here at the carnival.”
Frowning at the forward pastor, she hooked her hands on her duty belt. “Please step back from the line and continue on your way.”
Dad made a choked sound in his throat, but the good man, Richards, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Eli, this won’t help.”
“Deputy Murdoch, I’ll handle this,” Hamilton said from behind her.
Once her boss took her place in front of the three men, Jolie backed away two steps, turned, and marched over to another point on the line that took her far from the heated argument sure to come.
Fudgesicles! Dad was going to be downright pissed at her for that.
An echo of what Ian had said at the jail struck her hard. Jolie swallowed, reaching up to cup the back of her sweaty neck. Had she truly been so blind to what Dad had been like? Yes, he was overbearing and demanding, but he’d done that out of a desire to do what he thought was best for his kids. She glanced over at her father. He stood with his back angled toward her, and his finger pointed at Sheriff Hamilton.
Tearing her gaze away, Jolie shrank inside herself. If only she had the drive and confidence that seemed to flow from Xavier.
A loud crack rent the air, startling her. Her hand slammed onto the butt of her gun, and she spun, lowering her body. The sweat turned cold as fear plowed a path through her brain. Her tunneled vision widened a fraction to take in the sight of people cowering.
It had sounded like a gunshot.
Down the line, Dad and his two pals were hunkered down. Hamilton was making a run toward the booth. Shoving the fear away, Jolie bolted to her feet and hurried down the line to put herself in front of the men.
“Gentlemen, please get out of here.” She hated the begging tone in her words, but she didn’t know how else to get her father away from here.
When her gaze clashed with his, she could see the terror in
those brown depths.
Was he—like her—thinking about that day when Ian stormed into their home, threatening to kill them all? And the heart attack that sent her father slamming to the floor? She’d seen terror in his eyes then. It was the only time he’d ever been so vulnerable.
“Dad, please.”
With an uncharacteristic nod of acquiescence, he tapped Frost’s shoulder, and with Pastor Richards in tow, they hurried away from the perimeter line. Once they were out of sight, Jolie breathed easier.
Her radio clicked, and Hamilton’s voice came over. “All clear. It was the dartboard breaking. Over.”
She slumped to the pavement, her heart hammering inside her ribs. Thank God. Reaching up with an unsteady hand, she cued the mic. “Copy.”
Everything about this situation was getting ugly. And having her father trying to interject himself into it spouted a seed of dread in Jolie’s stomach that spread its poison through her body. Someone else could get hurt before this was all over. An iron-hot fist punched at her gut until she gagged.
Chapter Fifteen
Xavier couldn’t take it anymore. He had to get out of the house and do something. This cooped up feeling was for the birds.
He headed for the small, detached garage and rolled out his Harley. It would feel good to ride instead of having others take him where he needed to go. Since he’d lost his leg, the constant surgeries to repair his injuries, the rehab where he had to learn how to walk, then his family and their need to hover and restrict his decisions—it all took away his freedom for a long time. Once he was fitted with a good prosthetic and got out from under the clutches of his loved ones, he’d regained some of that freedom.
What he loved about the Harley was that all the control was in his hands and left foot—much easier for him to drive than a damn car. Sure, the car was a smarter, safer vehicle with his TBI, but was anything being operated by a man with a known brain injury a safe bet? If something happened to him, he just prayed to the Almighty he took only himself out and no one else.
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