Luke laid the file on the table, he tapped the name at the bottom of the statement. “The only witness to the fire was the recently deceased Clay Griffin. And the report indicates he told Sheriff Patmos that he saw Kell and her friends leaving the scene with a knapsack.”
“The sheriff didn’t find evidence of a knapsack,” Cheryl supplied lamely.
“Did he look?”
“Sure did. Had a team go over to the Center when we got the report.”
“Anything at the site?”
“Nope. Didn’t find anything. Including those two bodies the construction workers found.”
Luke leaned forward, puzzled. “What about the knapsack?”
“By the time the sheriff got around to questioning them, Fin and Kell had gone. No knapsack or the girls. Julia swore they hadn’t been near the fire.”
Cheryl indicated another tabbed page. “The sheriff found diary entries from both girls discussing their plan to move to New York rather than go to college. Mrs. F got a postcard from them too.”
Finishing the story, Curly added, “With no girls and no proof of arson, the fire was ruled an accident and the case was closed.”
“Until we found the two dead bodies and suddenly, the only witness dies and the prodigal daughter returns.” Luke hissed out an expletive. “I don’t like coincidences.”
CHAPTER 6
Hallden felt almost deserted in the deepening shadows. Storefronts posted closed signs, their proprietors long-since departed for Saturday-night dinner. In the center of town, a statue of the city’s founder posed, surrounded by lush green park. Flowers bloomed in sunburst profusion, encouraging couples to spread blankets on the lawn at dusk.
Luke slowed the rumbling truck to a stop beneath a street-light and glanced at his nearly mute passenger. She’d said no more than a few words since he picked her up at the Center. The sight of her in a slim column of black that left her shoulders and her remarkable legs exposed had kept him silent while he unswallowed his tongue.
But the ride had continued in the same quiet, unless he asked a question. Although he appreciated she wasn’t one to fill the silence with nervous chatter, he was determined to coax out more than a monosyllabic response. On the radio, a saxophone bemoaned a lost lover. He lowered the volume and prodded, “Ever miss Hallden?”
Turning from the passenger window, Kell gave the park a thoughtful look. “Sometimes. Like tonight. Summers in Atlanta, you can visit a park, but there’s always noise. Music, cars rushing by. Hallden’s different. Same sounds, but softer.” As she spoke, he noted how her hands moved with her words, a graceful ballet to accent her thoughts. She spoke as eloquently with her hands as her mouth. “Peaceful.”
Weariness and longing wound beneath the response, two responses he hadn’t expected. She struck him as self-contained, too busy to notice the distinctions or care. Luke recognized both and could not help but respond. “Hallden isn’t idyllic, but it has a tranquility cities can’t match. Makes you feel like you can stop running for a moment and simply rest. Be at home.”
But you can’t rest, Kell reminded herself. And Hallden was no longer her home. An afternoon spent at the Center, reminiscing with Mrs. F, reinforced that fact. She’d made her choice years ago, and this brief sojourn was simply a moment out of time. It wouldn’t do to get too connected—to the Center or to Luke Calder.
Changing topics, she asked, “Where are you from?” She’d been puzzling over his accent all day. She considered her ear for regional differences finely tuned, but she couldn’t place the mix in Luke’s speech. The deep, even timbre carried a veneer of southern polite mixed with a note of western brusque. “I’ve been trying to figure that out all day.”
“So you’ve been thinking about me,” Luke teased. When she stiffened slightly, he continued smoothly, “I’m a navy brat. Parents dragged me across three continents before settling in Chicago. Born in Gulfport, Mississippi, on an Air Force base and lived there until my parents were shipped to the Philippines when I was seven. Then six years in Galveston and a post in France. When their tours ended, we moved to Illinois.”
“Both of your parents were soldiers?”
“Mom’s a doctor and Dad sailed ships.” Luke drove forward, waving absently at an elderly woman inching along the sidewalk. He rolled down the window, “Good night, Mrs. Rasbury.”
“’Night, Sheriff,” she returned with a palsied wave.
“Mrs. Rasbury taught me fourth grade.” Kell relaxed in her seat, amused. “I thought she was ancient then.”
“Has the eyesight of a sharpshooter. Calls my office every Monday with a report of the weekend’s happenings. Patrols the park until sundown and then keeps an eye on her neighborhood until Nightline is off. Between her and Curly, I barely have a job to do around here.”
“But you enjoy it.” It wasn’t a question. Luke spoke of his work with a satisfaction that she envied. Unwilling to explore why she’d be jealous of a small-town cop, she firmly pushed the feeling aside. “You like being sheriff here.”
Luke nodded easily. “Best job I’ve ever had.”
“Better than Chicago?”
“Different.”
When he didn’t elaborate, she asked, “Did you join the military too?”
“Nope. Went to college and studied English lit and creative writing.”
“You’re a writer?”
“According to my professors, not at all,” he supplied unashamedly. “Seems my talents are limited to appreciation of the arts, not participation.”
“So how did you go from Shakespeare to law enforcement? To please your parents?”
“Mom wanted me to be a doctor and Dad picked out naval pilot,” he corrected. “I don’t like biology and I prefer roots to wings. A grave disappointment to them both.”
“Roots,” she repeated the word, the bite of envy returning. “Is that why you decided to become a police officer?”
“Mostly. That, and I spent a lot of time on base hanging out with the MPs.”
“Ah, ha,” she smiled. “All the big, shiny guns marching around the base.”
“Well, I was a teenager,” he concurred with a rueful laugh. “Living on a base, there’s a sense of protection. I liked knowing that we were safe, and I respected the men and women who made it true.” With a kid’s grin, he added, “But the guns were cool too.”
She smiled in reaction, but lingered on his mention of protection. “Why did you feel threatened? You’re a formidable man. Can’t imagine you as a scrawny child afraid of bullies.”
“I hit six feet by ninth grade so, no, no bullies. But there are a thousand threats, Kell. Some physical, more of them not.”
“Of course.”
Luke frowned, contemplating his choice of words. “A child on a base feels safe, but you can’t ignore the fact that everyone is on constant alert. The precision of military life and having your mother run off to take care of friendly fire accidents guarantees that you don’t get too complacent. When crimes did occur on the base, the MPs tracked the culprits and brought them to justice.”
“Military justice,” Kell muttered.
“Justice,” corrected Luke. “Everybody on base knew the rules. You broke them, you faced the consequences.”
Kell watched him thoughtfully for a moment. “Knowing the rules isn’t the same as comprehension. And the law has to make space for human error. We make mistakes. Big ones, little ones. Justice has to make some allowance for the fact that we are human. Fallible.”
“I suppose. Human error is why we have judges and juries rather than automatons.” Luke turned into the parking lot for Hervé’s and put the car into park. He shifted, unbuckling his seat belt. “I realized early on that I’m not the one who should decide the penalty. I like making sure that people can go about their days without keeping their guards up constantly.”
“The police aren’t the only ones who want that.”
“True, but it’s hard to see how a defense attorney helps the cause, especial
ly when she puts another criminal back on the street.”
Feeling her hackles rise, she steamed, “Someone has to be out there to keep cops from getting too much blood on the Constitution.”
“Ouch.” Luke rubbed at his chest. “Direct hit. Let’s agree that Justice needs foot soldiers as much as defenders and detractors, to my way of thinking.”
Kell eased back, muttering, “Exactly which camp do you put lawyers in?”
“I plead the Fifth.”
Interior lights illuminated the truck, throwing his features into relief. Kell stared at him, and he asked, “Is there something on my face?”
“You’re too handsome,” Kell murmured, half-annoyed by the realization. The suit he wore hung perfectly on his frame, emphasizing the contrast of power and grace. A man comfortable with his strength who felt no need to flaunt it. “You’re unnerving.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me since we met.”
Kell reached for her seat belt, mumbling, “It wasn’t a compliment.”
“My mistake,” retorted Luke, a shade of irritation in the response. “But I’ll take what I can get from you.”
“What does that mean?”
“What does that mean?” Luke repeated softly. Arousal, hard and insistent, returned as he placed a hand on her shoulder, angling her toward him. Soulful brown eyes watched him carefully, measuring. When he traced the flawless curve of her cheek, she didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back. She simply watched. Waited. Luke didn’t intend to disappoint. “I find you gorgeous. Intriguing. Insufferable.”
Wary, Kell lifted a hand to catch his wrist, intending to move his hand. Beneath the callused fingertip, her skin warmed, flamed. She tugged once. “The feeling is mutual. But I’d add arrogant and officious.”
“Because I’m clear about what I want?”
“No. Because you try to take without asking. Touch without invitation.”
“Perhaps. But then why are you holding my hand?”
She didn’t know. Of their own volition, her fingers had curled around his wrist to hold rather than remove. Self-preservation warned that she should release him, make some pithy remark and suffer through dinner. She was here to ferret out information about the Griffin case, not to make out with the sheriff. “To keep it from straying again.”
“Are you sure?” Luke slid his hand down, cradling the slender throat where her pulse beat wildly. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“That we need to go inside.” Still, she couldn’t stop looking at his poet’s mouth. Which was moving toward hers. “What are you doing?” she asked, intending haughty, achieving breathless.
“I’m getting this out of the way.”
Warm air skated over her lips, followed by a brush of silk. No, not silk, she realized dimly. His mouth skimmed over hers in a touch that barely seemed to make contact, yet seared through her like a bolt. Her breath escaped on a sigh, a shudder.
Luke concentrated, determined not to take, as he wanted to—almost desperately. A single point of contact rippled through his system on waves of sensation. Her mouth with its permanent pout demanded that he explore slowly, fully. With the tip of his tongue, he traced the curves and dips, resisting the urge to crush. When her lips parted, he eased inside to test. Flavors exploded, the taste of her, another mystery to be solved. His hand lifted to stroke her hair, to match the silken skeins to the satin glide of tongue.
Unable to resist, unwilling to wait, Kell pressed closer. Too much, she thought raggedly, and wanted more. His kiss changed angles, the intensity increasing. Deeper now, with a hunger that echoed in her blood. She heard a moan escape, felt her hand tighten on his wrist. Holding on so closely, she didn’t know if she wanted to ever let go.
And because she didn’t, she forced her fingers to relax their possession. With a reluctance that ripped at her, she dropped his wrist and tore her mouth free. Blindly, he advanced, and she shifted out of reach, her spine straight against the door. She laid a palm against his chest, startling his eyes open. “Luke.”
Instantly, he backed away, leaving a gulf between them. Shaking his head, he raised his hands in defense. “Okay.”
“I can’t do this.”
Luke watched her, still, coiled. “Now or ever?”
“Ever.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I don’t intend to be in Hallden longer than a weekend.” She ignored the pang, and continued, “I find you attractive, yes, but I only agreed to dinner, nothing more.”
“I haven’t asked for more. Yet.”
“And if you do, I’m warning you that you’ll be disappointed.”
“I won’t, Kell, and neither will you.” With that quiet vow, Luke climbed out of the truck and circled the hood to her door. He opened it and offered a hand to help her alight. “The chef here prepares a delicious trout amandine, if you like seafood. If not, the chicken Kiev is excellent.”
Kell accepted the assistance and the advice warily, puzzled by the sudden affability. “How long has this been here?”
“According to Curly, Hervé is a tenderfoot. Only been in town for eleven years. Came from Montreal. He and Curly don’t get along very well, particularly given his tendency to call the man Harvey.” Luke tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. He locked the car and guided her along the gravel path to the front door. “Curly is suspicious of food that requires precision cooking.”
“As I recall, that suspicion extends to franks and beans,” she offered dryly.
He nodded in amused agreement. “Peanut butter and jelly appears to suit him fine. When he’s in an adventurous mood, he’ll order from the pizza restaurant. Haven’t been able to coax him to try Thai yet.”
“Hallden has a Thai restaurant?” Kell asked in surprise. “Last time I was here, we were still celebrating the arrival of McDonald’s to rival the Chevron gas station’s chicken.”
Luke ushered her inside the restaurant. “Town’s gotten a bit larger since you left.”
The maître d’ greeted them warmly. “Sheriff Calder. Your table is ready. Gavin will seat you.”
Gavin, a short, round man with ruddy cheeks and a bald pate appeared at their side. “Sheriff. Great to see you again. And who is this lovely woman?”
“Kell Jameson,” Luke introduced, “meet Gavin Card, waiter extraordinaire.” Luke decided not to mention that he’d arrested Gavin nine times for petty theft and attempted robbery before discovering a place for him at Hervé’s.
“Kell Jameson, the lawyer?” Gavin’s eyes widened in recognition. “I’ve seen you on television. You can get anybody off, can’t you?” Losing the smooth accent he adopted for service, he unconsciously reverted to a New Jersey twang that belied his roots. “Mind if I get your card?”
Before Kell could reach into her bag, Luke covered her hand. “Gavin won’t need your card,” he corrected. “If he found himself in trouble, a lawyer would do him little good.”
Gavin coughed lightly, hearing the warning clearly. “Right, Sheriff. Just a little stargazing.” He scurried to pull out Kell’s chair. With a practiced flick of the wrist, he spread a black linen napkin on her lap. He vanished for an instant, returning to fill their glasses with water and to offer Luke a bottle of wine he seemed to favor. Satisfied, he flowed through the menu options, highlighting recommendations. “I’ll let you take a look and be with you in a few moments.” Scurrying off, Gavin disappeared into the kitchen.
“Should I ask what that was about?” Kell inquired wryly. “I’ve never received such efficient water service before.”
“Gavin and I have a long history in our short time together.”
“You seem to have a knack for that.” At his raised brow, she continued, “I have a difficult time remembering that we only met this afternoon.”
“Time is irrelevant when facing the inevitable.” Luke extended the basket of rolls that had appeared by his elbow along with the Chardonnay. “Don’t you agree?”
She accepted the fragrant bread
and the challenge. Breaking it open, Kell responded, “In general, yes. But the essential issue is what is inevitable.”
“Given today’s events, I’d be pleased to hazard a guess.”
Taking a sip of water to quench a suddenly dry throat, Kell equivocated, “Too early to tell.”
Luke studied Kell in the flicker of candlelight. Beneath the beauty he acknowledged, and the fatigue he could hear, he caught an occasional glimpse of an emotion he could swear was fear. Casually, he filled both their glasses with pale gold wine. “Why did you agree to dinner tonight?”
“I was hungry.”
“Kell.”
“I was,” she insisted. She lifted her glass this time, as much for the taste as the shield. Luke Calder didn’t strike her as a man to ask idle questions or to fish for compliments. Playing along, she looked at him, her head tilted in mock observation. “And I was curious.”
“About me?”
“About you, yes. And about how Hallden has changed. I’ve been away a very long time.”
“Sixteen years.”
Of course, he knew, she thought. “Apparently, there are no secrets in Mayberry.”
“Secrets are hard to keep anywhere.”
She couldn’t have agreed more. A lesson learned, impossible to forget. “If the secret is between more than one person, it’s not going to stay secret for long.”
“That’s a rather dismal assessment of the rest of us.”
“I’m a realist. One who knows that there are few people that you can trust at all, let alone with your secrets.”
Gavin interrupted. “May I take your orders?” After committing the requests to memory, he collected the menus and headed off to another table.
“So who shares your secrets?” Luke’s glance dropped to her hands. They were graceful, with long, tapered fingers bare of rings of any kind. He could feel them around his wrist even now, the firm grip belied by the supple, creamy soft skin. Now, those hands moved restlessly across the table. Not enough to distract, but sufficiently active for an observant man to note their near-constant motion. Desire stirred and he tore his gaze away. “Is someone pining away for you in Atlanta?”
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