Cadence (Langston Brothers Series)

by Blue, Melissa Lynne

  “Don’t.” He caught her hand and squeezed his eyes shut, turning his face slightly into her palm. After a long moment he released a pent up breath. The serious furrow returned to his brow and his hard gaze fixed on her once again. “I’ll have a deputy escort you home.”

  She opened her mouth to protest.

  He lifted a finger. “Do not argue with me or it will be one of the Yankees.”

  * * *

  “This investigation is going to be a mess.” George Hudson shifted in the wooden chair behind his desk the following morning. “Three victims, none of whom have anything in common, except age and looks, and now we’re going to have to pattern this out and catch the bastard before he strikes again, likely next week on a Thursday.”

  “I know.” Davy kicked at a loose board on the scarred floor. Sunlight streamed through the window behind the sheriff’s head, dancing across his foot and promising a beautiful late summer day. The brilliant rays and blue sky only darkened his already glower mood. Clouds would have been much more fitting. “I’m going to wire the Marshals office in Washington. See if they can spare a few men or any information about similar murders.”

  “Good, we need to get a handle on this case before things get out of control.”

  “Three dead women,” Davy muttered. “I’d say it’s already out of control.”

  The sheriff was silent for a long while and Davy knew he was thinking as he was, a serial killer was the last thing this city needed.

  “Hey, George?” Davy propped a foot on the desk edge, rocking back in his chair.

  “Yeah?”

  “Keep Lexie out of this one.”

  “Right, Marshal.” A snort of wry laughter escaped him. “You try stopping her.”

  Listening to the creak of the chair beneath his weight Davy couldn’t seem to get the vision of Lexie’s face when she’d seen Susie’s body out of his head. Lexie was a busybody of the worst sort and a damn thorn in his side, but she meant well, her heart was in the right place, and… and what?

  He supposed he wanted to protect her from the evils he contended with every day.

  “Did you speak with Frank Jenson, yet?”

  Davy nodded. “First thing this morning.”

  George scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “Anything?”

  “No. He’s been away from town for two days helping his brother harvest. It’s the first crop Belle Acres has managed in two years. Frank swore his wife hadn’t been involved with another man.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “If she was he didn’t have any idea.” Davy’s gut clenched with familiar anguish. Frank’s devastation had been real. So real it had sent Davy reeling back to the darkest day of his life…

  A hearty rap on the door broke Davy from the depressing chain of thought. The portal opened, admitting none other than his younger brother, Craig Langston.

  “Doc.” George stood. “What can we do for you this morning?”

  “Sheriff. Davy.” Craig nodded in greeting, his expression somber. “I’m glad you’re both here.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his inner breast pocket. “I found something on Susannah Jensen that you need to see right away.”

  Davy rose, striding instantly to his brother. As a respected physician in Charleston, Craig and his partner, James Rowe, had examined each of the recent murder victims, lending their professional expertise to the search for clues.

  “This is a letter to a woman named Jessica.” He handed the folded note to Davy. “Given the circumstances, the contents are fairly alarming.”

  Davy unfolded the note and glanced quickly down the hastily scrawled note.

  My dearest Jessica,

  Tonight we begin the rest of our lives. Forever together. Meet me at the crossroad by the orchard at nine o’clock.

  —Bram

  It appeared Susie Jensen may have been having an affair after all. David passed the note to the sheriff. “We may have the name of a suspect.”

  George’s brow furrowed. “That is where we found Mrs. Jensen, but who the hell is Jessica?”

  “If we knew that the case would be solved,” Davy quipped dryly. He turned back to his brother. “Craig, thank you. This is a tremendous break.” Though it opened the door to a flood of new questions.

  “Of course,” Craig replied seriously. “If there is anything else you need…”

  Davy nodded before plucking his hat from the desk. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some uncomfortable questions to ask people.”

  “Davy.” Craig’s voice stopped him before he reached the door. “In light of recent events, my wife would like to know if you’re still planning to have dinner with us tonight.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, tipping his hat in subtle salute before striding through the door.

  Deep in thought, Davy traversed the city streets. Bram. He needed to ask friends and family of the other victims if they’d mentioned anyone by that name or a woman named Jessica with all haste. He’d start with Elizabeth North. Her daughter Clara had been the first girl murdered a little over three weeks ago. He approached the widow’s modest house and paused, observing the small black ribbon tied to the door handle. His mood dropped from glower to black as he mounted the steps and then banged the brass knocker.

  The oak door opened a crack, revealing Mrs. North’s tearstained face.

  He removed his hat and bowed his head respectfully. “Good morning, ma’am.”

  “What can I do for you, Marshal Langston?” Her voice was tired and strained.

  “If it’s not too much trouble I’d like to ask a few more questions regarding your daughter.”

  Her eyes hardened. “I just finished answering questions this morning, Marshal. You law people need to decide who’s coming and when.”

  Finished? Who had spoken with her today? Not Sheriff Hudson… “Mrs. North, I assure you, we have no intention of disturbing you unless absolutely necessary, but—”

  “You also assured me you’d catch the man who killed my daughter. Do not come back here until you do.” Mrs. North promptly slammed the door in his face.

  He stood for a moment stunned, blinking twice before remembering to snap his mouth shut. Confused he raked a hand through his hair and turned back toward the street. “What the hell?” Almost instantly his gaze collided with a tall sender figure, dressed in a simple blue day dress sashaying busily down the street. An involuntary growl rumbled deep in his chest as his fists balled in irritation and anger. “Lexie!”

  Lexie Hudson’s blonde head did not so much as bobble in acknowledgement.

  “Lexie,” he barked once more, stalking down the steps and into the road. He closed in on her with ground eating strides. “What are you doing here?”

  She stopped abruptly as though startled by his gruff manner of greeting and faced him. “I was questioning Mrs. North,” she replied matter-of-factly.

  David speared her with his most lethal glare. “I am aware. What I’d like to know is why?”

  Her nose inclined to a haughty level, clear blue eyes sparking in challenge against his. “She is a potential material witness, and has valuable information as to the whereabouts of her daughter immediately before the murder. Now that we’ve had a third murder everything must be reevaluated.”

  A sound trapped somewhere between a guttural growl and a gurgle bubbled from his throat, as if he didn’t know that, and now Mrs. North wouldn’t speak to him. “We are not reevaluating anything.” He raked a hand through his hair and looked from the infuriating woman standing before him, to the North’s porch. Lexie was impossible. And nosy. With this electric way of moving that grated his last nerve.

  “David—”

  He snapped a silencing hand through the air—a technique he’d learned at West Point and perfected in his subsequent military career. He drew a ragged breath in an attempt to cool his flaring temper. In all he considered himself a good humored man, not patient, but good humored nonetheless, so what was it about Lexie that set his ev
ery last nerve on the fray? He knew the sudden and extremely childish urge to yank her hair. He’d never had a sister it might be fun, satisfying even. Lexie was the closest thing to sisterly sibling rivalry he’d ever known, and it had been that way with every investigation for the last two years. Two miserable agonizingly long years. “Did you at least write anything down from your interview?”

  “Of course,” she replied. “I always keep detailed notes.”

  “Good.” He held out a hand. “Give them to me.”

  She clutched a blue cloth satchel to her chest. “Absolutely not. I’m more than happy to share information with you.”

  “I wouldn’t need you to share information if you would stay away from my witnesses. Mrs. North won’t speak to me now that she’s answered all of your questions.” For emphasis he glared at the porch he’d just vacated. “Seeing as you are not officially investigating this case I think you could do us all a favor and hand your interview notes over cooperatively, for once.”

  Her eyes shifted from his face, to the porch, and back again, but her fingers did not relax the death grip on her satchel.

  “Give them to me.”

  “No!” She half turned as he stepped forward attempting to grab the bag. “I am more than happy to show you my interview notes, but I’m not going to hand them over just because you’re behaving like an incorrigible brute.”

  “Come, Lexie. Is that really the best insult you can muster?”

  “The words I would like to use are hardly appropriate for the middle of a city street.”

  “Ah, yes, and you’re such a lady.”

  For just a moment her eyes flashed hot red and he knew the immense satisfaction of having pushed her over the edge. “Go to the devil you overbearing horse’s ass.”

  “Now that’s an insult,” he mocked, swiftly reaching an arm across her shoulder, and snatching the satchel from her grasp.

  “David.” She whirled. “Give that back.”

  “Go home, Lexie.” He rifled through the satchel until he found her interview notes. “Now.”

  “That’s stealing.” She crossed her arms, fixing him with a withering glare.

  “It’s not stealing.” He rattled the papers in front of her face, taunting her. “I’m confiscating these as evidence. Leave.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean no? You have no right and no authorization to be questioning witnesses. Now that Mrs. North is refusing to answer more questions you could have compromised the entire investigation.” Grabbing her elbow Davy steered her bodily toward the sidewalk.

  Defiant she yanked away from him. “Your size doesn’t intimidate me, Marshal Langston.” She stepped forward to prove the point. “I could help if you’d allow it.”

  “Help me?” He barked with ironic laughter. “You are nothing more than a thorn in my side.”

  “Only because you’re so stubborn. And that is beside the point because I have a lead, Marshal Langston.”

  He growled shaking his head. “Very well, Lexie. What is it you think you have?”

  “I spoke with Clara North’s mother, Janet Hatchet’s mother, and Susie’s sister–”

  “Wait a moment.” His hand sliced through the air once more, silencing her. “You spoke with all of them?” David glanced down at the notes clutched in his hand. “When did you start?”

  “This morning.” Her eyes blinked innocently.

  Well, he couldn’t fault her for efficiency. “Go on.”

  “I found a common thread in the activity of the women.” She paused presumably for dramatic effect, but Davy would just as soon have throttled her. “All three of them visited the dressmaker the week they were killed”

  “Jesus, Lexie. The dressmaker?” He clenched a fist in exasperation. “Hundreds of women visit a seamstress every week. That is flimsy happenstance at best.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. This morning new evidence came to our attention. Possibly the name of a suspect and the name of another women… we’re not sure what it means yet… but now that you’ve harassed all of our witnesses the entire investigation may be delayed.”

  Lexie gulped, looking chagrined. Finally. “Oh.”

  “There are specific questions I need to ask. Do you see now why you cannot run about half-cocked playing lawman?”

  She flushed. “I didn’t know. I-I thought…”

  “No, Lexie, you didn’t think. That is the problem.”

  Lexie fell silent for a long moment. “You have the name of a suspect?” Any remorse at having compromised his investigation fled from her expression.

  “None that you need know of.”

  “Come.” She linked her arm through his, taking him completely by surprise and tugging him into the street, back toward the North’s house. “I have an idea.

  Books By Melissa Lynne Blue

  Forget Me Not

  Edge of Time

  Cadence

  About the Author

  A Registered Nurse by night, Melissa battles the stresses of life and illness by enjoying uplifting tales of love and romance. A firm believer in true love united with an enduring fascination with history has prompted her pursuit of romance writing. She lives in beautiful Big Sky Country Montana with her husband and children.