by Joanna Wayne
“Not everybody,” Bob reminded him. “And lying under oath is not exactly just following the other ducks into the pond.”
“What did she testify?” Tyler asked, suddenly more curious than he wanted to be.
Julie stepped over to the hearth. “Ruthanne said under oath that she popped in the morning of the murder and found Helene furiously packing her luggage. When Ruthanne asked her where she was going, Helene said she was driving to her parents’ house that afternoon. Helene told her that things had gone on long enough.”
“What things?” Tyler asked.
“Ruthanne said she wasn’t sure.”
“If Helene actually said that, she was most likely talking about her parents trying to interfere in our lives,” Troy said.
Bob grunted and scratched a spot behind his ear. “The way Ruthanne told it, it was like the problems were between Troy and Helene.”
Tyler hadn’t remembered problems between his parents, but he’d been only eight. “Were problems that bad?”
Troy shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans in what appeared to be an act of frustration. “We had some money issues, but it was nothing serious. Your mother loved me and she was devoted to you boys. We had the future all planned. She knew how much I loved her. She always knew that.”
“But her bags were packed,” Julie said. “And that gave credence to Ruthanne’s testimony and the prosecutor’s case.”
Tyler felt as if he’d swallowed rocks and that they were grinding to sand in his stomach. He couldn’t even bear to look at Troy.
It suddenly struck him how much Julie knew about Troy’s trial. An exposé covering two murders would be much more provocative than if it only covered one. Had that been her plan all along? Was that why she couldn’t give up this investigation no matter how dangerous it became for her?
Succeed at any price, even if it involved moving in with a convicted killer and ignoring threats on your life.
Even if it meant lying in one breath and kissing the next.
Tyler heard the introductions taking place in the background, but found it difficult to focus on the mundane.
“An investigative reporter.” Bob repeated the words from the introduction as if they were so disgusting he had to spit them out of his mouth. “Don’t go stirring up trouble for Troy. He don’t deserve it. He and Helene were as in love as two people can get. Everybody knew that including that two-faced Ruthanne.”
“Then I can’t possibly make trouble for Troy,” Julie said. “I’m only looking for the truth.”
“All I’m saying is it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie. Rile one and he’s just liable to take a bite out of you.”
Julie’s cell phone rang. She took it out and checked the screen. “Excuse me, but I need to take this. Nice to have met you, Bob. And don’t worry. I’m only collaborating with Troy, not investigating him.”
Julie walked away. “I wouldn’t trust her,” Bob said.
“I invited her to stay here,” Troy said, “and I plan to give her any help I can.”
“You’re too gullible, Troy. Trusting people you ought not trust is what landed you in prison in the first place. You thought being innocent was enough.”
“I’m not that foolish anymore,” Troy said. “Not after what I’ve been through and put my boys through. But there’s a chance that Julie’s investigation will bring me closer to finding Helene’s killer.”
“So you’ll knowingly let this reporter drag up your past, as well?” Bob argued.
“If it helps.”
Bob shook his head. “I just hope you’re not letting wasps in the outhouse.”
“I can handle this,” Troy assured him.
Tyler walked to the front door with the two men and thanked Bob again for the sausage. He tried to put it from his mind, but Bob’s warnings about Julie wouldn’t let go of him.
He left Bob and Troy talking on the porch, picked up the venison, carried it to the kitchen and found a spot for it on the second shelf of the refrigerator. When he didn’t see Julie, he checked the back door. She was standing on the top step, staring into the darkness.
He joined her, though neither said a word.
Finally, Julie broke the silence. “Aren’t you going to ask who was on the phone?”
“It’s none of my business who you talk to.”
“It was Sheriff Grayson.”
Tyler’s muscles clenched. “What did he want?”
“He wants to see me in his office first thing in the morning.”
“Did he say why?”
“To turn over a copy of all the information from his files concerning the Frost murder investigation.”
“Why the sudden change in attitude?” Tyler questioned.
“Maybe because it’s public documentation to a case that has been closed for years.”
Tyler doubted that was the real reason. “I’ll go with you.”
“The sheriff particularly specified that I was not to bring you.”
“I could care less what the sheriff wants. I’m going. If nothing else, it will show the sheriff that you can’t be intimidated.”
“Good point, but I don’t want you to mention the picture and warning that were left on my car.”
“I thought you weren’t afraid of him.”
“I’m not, but saying I was in danger would provide him with an excuse to thwart my investigation.”
“That’s possible. I’m not convinced that he would see it that way.”
He should let go of this, but if he did his suspicions would prey on his mind and make the doubts worse. He sat on the top step and tugged Julie down to sit beside him.
“Level with me,” he said.
Julie stared up at him from beneath her thick lashes and the moonlight gave a silvery glow to her eyes. “What is it?”
“Exactly what role does Troy play in your investigation?”
“Do we have to go over this again?”
“It would help.”
“I am trying to find out if the same person who killed Helene could have killed Muriel Frost. Troy’s done some research into Muriel Frost’s murder for the very same reason. We both have a stake in finding the truth. There’s no reason we shouldn’t compare notes.”
“You said you’re not investigating Troy and yet you seem to have all the evidence against him on the tip of your tongue.”
“So that’s what this is about.” She pulled herself up until she was sitting ramrod straight. “You think I’m trying to convict Troy all over again, only this time with the printed page instead of a trial. But it’s not me who’s trying to convict him, Tyler Ledger. It’s you.”
She stood and stormed away without giving him a chance to reply. Not that he could put up much of an argument. She could well be right.
But that didn’t mean he’d let Julie go alone to see the sheriff.
CALEB GRAYSON ARRIVED AT HIS office at the Sheriff’s Department at exactly ten minutes before eight the next morning. He stopped and made small talk with his secretary and then chatted at the coffee pot for several minutes with two of his detectives who were just going off duty. It had been a quiet night.
He planned to make damned sure it remained a quiet day. For eighteen years, no one had questioned the department’s handling of the Frost murder investigation. Joel Emmons had been sheriff at the time, an outgoing Texas native who didn’t take any garbage off anybody.
They’d interrogated suspects. The suspects had ironclad alibis. And the pathetic, stringy-haired niece who’d been in the house the whole time had never answered one question about the killer’s appearance.
That information was all contained in the files that he planned to give Julie Gillespie, the same files that everyone else in the department had access to.
Caleb stretched back in his leather swivel chair and propped his feet on the desk, satisfied that he had everything under control, whether Julie dropped the investigation or not.
The best scenario was for her to e
xamine the police file and then to decide the investigation had been thorough and that she didn’t have a chance of milking a story out of this.
If she didn’t drop it, well, then he’d do what he had to do to get her off the case.
Lucky for him, being the sheriff came with perks.
Chapter Seven
Tyler settled in a metal folding chair and sipped strong, black coffee from a foam cup. Julie sat next to him, in a matching metal folding chair except that unlike his, hers hadn’t been dusted with crumbs and a sticky substance Tyler sincerely hoped had been edible at one time.
The sheriff had the power seat behind a chunky brown desk. He’d made a stab at being hospitable until he’d spotted Tyler. Then his whole demeanor had changed.
Grayson obviously had an agenda. Tyler didn’t have it figured out as of yet, but there was no doubt the man did not like dealing with reporters, or with Tyler for that matter.
Once the clerk who’d served the coffee was gone, Grayson reached into his top desk drawer, pulled out a thick manila file and placed it on the desk in front of him. He stared at Julie as if she were a crook he expected to have to shoot at any minute.
“You said you worked alone,” he said, turning only briefly to glare at Tyler.
“I usually do.”
“Guess it’s handy to have a new partner living and sleeping right there in the same house.”
“We’re here to pick up a file,” Tyler said. “If we wanted a sermon, we’d have gone to church. And where Julie sleeps is none of your business.”
“Who I give access to files is very much my business.”
“We’ve already covered my credentials,” Julie said. “So how about just handing over the file and we’ll get out of your way.”
“We need to set some ground rules first.”
“We?” Tyler asked, not hiding the sarcasm. “What role does Julie get in that?”
The sheriff picked up a silver ballpoint pen and tapped it against a notepad. “Okay, I make the rules.
You follow.”
“Is that rule number one?” Tyler asked.
“You can give it whatever number you want. Just don’t forget it. I don’t want you interviewing any of my deputies while they’re on the clock. They’re here to do the county’s work, not yours. If they want to talk to you on their time, that’s their business.”
Julie nodded. “I can live with that.”
The sheriff leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “Don’t harass the citizens of my county, especially the Camerons,” he said, still nursing his condescending tone.
“The Camerons aren’t on the county payroll,” Tyler reminded him.
“No, but they’ve heard that you trespassed yesterday and they’ve requested that Miss Gillespie respect their property and their privacy. They cooperated fully in the original investigation. You can read accounts of that in the police file.”
Julie crossed her shapely legs. “Muriel Frost was an employee of the Camerons. I’m sure they’d want to help find her killer in any way they could.”
“You’re not in law enforcement, Julie. You’re in journalism. It’s not a killer but a story and a career boost you’re looking for. The Ledgers may be fooled. I’m not, and neither are the Camerons.”
“How long have you been sheriff?” Tyler asked.
“Eleven years. I was a deputy ten years before that. So to answer your real question, yes, I was working for the department when Miss Frost was murdered.”
Julie began to swing her leg in jerky, agitated movements. “Were you in on the original investigation?”
“As a matter of fact, I was the first officer to arrive on the scene and later was named the lead detective in the case.”
Which made it a lot easier to understand why he didn’t want the local and possibly the cable news stations to discover that the case had been bobbled.
And the first officer on the scene could have easily taken the picture left on Julie’s windshield. It would be interesting to see if the original of that same picture was in the police file.
“The Frost murder was extremely brutal with no obvious motive,” Julie said. “Isn’t that very different from the types of murders you usually deal with in this area?”
“We’ve solved eighty percent of our homicides in the last five years. That’s a damn good record for any agency.”
“Yes, but you have far fewer homicides than some of the larger, more urban counties. The last murder in your county was a clear case of spousal abuse. The woman lived long enough to tell you who attacked her.
“In the one before that, the victim had been shot in a barroom brawl and there were dozens of witnesses. In the one before that, the victim was shot by a jealous husband who confessed while being interrogated.”
“Are you going somewhere with this?”
“A murder without witnesses or obvious motives would be unusual for you even now. So you have to admit that it is possible that eighteen years ago, you may have overlooked a few clues that would have led to an arrest in the Frost murder.”
The veins in Sheriff Grayson’s neck bulged like a bungee cord and his jaw clenched so tightly it looked as if it might have to be pried open. Julie clearly had him on the ropes. No matter what came of her investigation, Tyler figured Dear Julie wouldn’t be giving lovelorn puppy advice any longer.
The sheriff glanced at his watch. “I have a meeting in ten minutes. If you have questions, ask them—quickly.” He shoved the file in front of him to the back edge of his desk. “Otherwise, take the information and get out of my way. I have legitimate work to do.”
“Did you interrogate a man named Zeke Hartwell?”
“I don’t have the case file memorized, but, yes, I believe we did. He did some repair work for Muriel Frost just before her murder if I’m remembering correctly.”
“He was never arrested.”
“Then I’m assuming we ruled him out as a suspect. I do remember that Betty Calhoun had an airtight alibi.”
“Who’s Betty Calhoun?” Tyler asked. He was pretty sure he hadn’t heard Julie mention her name before.
“A woman who threatened to kill Muriel Frost if she caught her with her husband. Muriel Frost didn’t have a stellar reputation, if you get my drift.”
Julie stopped shaking her leg and planted both feet on the floor. “That doesn’t mean she shouldn’t receive justice.”
“I never said that it did.”
“Do either Zeke or Betty still live in the area?” Tyler asked.
“Zeke left as soon as we gave him clearance. Not that I blame him. Nobody was going to hire him as long as even the slightest suspicion hung over his head. Betty stuck around, but ended up divorcing her husband a couple years later.”
“I’ll pay her a visit,” Julie said.
The sheriff stood and picked up the file. “Wouldn’t advise it. She died two years ago of complications following surgery.”
“What about Zeke Hartwell?” Julie asked. “Have you kept up with him?”
“No reason to. He could be anywhere.” He handed Julie the file and walked to the door, opening it and standing back so they could walk past him.
“Thanks for the file,” she said, “and for your time.”
She extended a hand. The jerk ignored it.
“If you’re smart you’ll move on to a case with something to prove. This one’s done and opening it up for your personal gain will backfire. You’ll wish you were back spreading advice to pimple-faced brats.”
So the sheriff had done some investigating of his own. Tyler went face-to-face with the pompous lawman. “That sounds like a threat.”
“Take it any way you like.”
Tyler fought an urge that would have landed him directly in the slammer and made it impossible to see that Julie stayed safe. He was beginning to suspect a conspiracy among people who didn’t want the Frost case opened again.
If Muriel Frost’s murderer was part of the scheme, he’d likely have no qualms
about killing again, this time in order to remain a free man.
Tyler was facing a few challenges of his own. He had to find a way to keep Julie with him all the time and still keep his sensual urgings under control. Which meant he couldn’t get his lips anywhere near hers.
The fun had just been banished from their relationship. Some vacation this would be.
AS SOON AS GRAYSON WAS certain that Tyler Ledger and Julie Gillespie had left the building, he picked up the phone and punched in Candice Cameron’s private number.
She should be home alone now. Guy went into the office by seven every morning. Candice dragged in whenever she chose, usually around ten, and then she took a two-hour lunch. Grayson found it useful to know such things.
He didn’t fault Candice for giving herself generous leeway with her hours. A woman with her money didn’t have to work at all, but she went into the office every day and knew pretty much everything that went on in their billion dollar business.
She deserved credit for that, though Grayson suspected her time spent in the office was in large part an attempt to keep an eye on Guy and protect her marriage and business interests.
He was about to give up when Candice finally picked up.
“Hello.”
“Good morning, Candice. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”
“I wouldn’t have answered the phone if you had. Is there a problem, Sheriff?”
“You could say that, but it’s nothing the two of us can’t handle.”
“What kind of problem?”
“It concerns the murder of Muriel Frost.”
Grayson heard her gasp and imagined her eyes getting big and her ample breasts spilling out of a shimmery negligee. He’d always found Candice attractive, in a sleazy, overkill kind of way.
“What about the murder?” she asked, clearly distraught.
It was sinful how much he enjoyed toying with her mind this way. But it was necessary.
Grayson always did whatever was necessary to get the job done right.
That’s what made him the perfect sheriff. That and the fact that he stayed on top of things. You load the gun before you run into the rattlesnake. Julie Gillespie had best watch where she slithered.