Luke grinned, already gathering his supplies. “Then I suppose that’s one more reason you’ll have to stay here. A constant supply of blueberry waffles.” He located an apron to wear over his jeans and T-shirt. Stopping behind her, he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. “Like your outfit, Kell,” he murmured.
Kell shivered in reaction and hopped off the stool. “I’ve got to change.”
As she pushed through the door, she heard him say, “Never on my account.”
CHAPTER 9
As he expected, Cheryl and her team found no trace of the intruder except a jimmied lock on the kitchen door. After giving Eliza a stern lecture on safety, which included using the fancy security system she’d had installed a year ago, Luke went into his office to work on the Griffin case.
Curly greeted him, alerted to Luke’s plans by Cheryl. “I swear you two are worse than mothering hens,” he complained as he passed by the desk.
“Leave it to you and you’d spend most of your life here in this office,” Curly responded. “Either that or hiding away in that rattrap you took a mind to rebuild.”
“That rattrap is a diamond in the rough.” Luke walked into his office, grateful for the coffee steaming on his desk. Mother hens or not, Curly and Cheryl took excellent care of him. Though they were as different from his squad in Chicago as night and day, both had been a close-knit team that looked out for each other. Almost always.
When the memory snuck in, Luke couldn’t prepare for it. So he let the sorrow break against him, knowing that each time, the pain lessened. If four years had dulled grief and guilt to a razor’s edge, perhaps by ten he’d be able to start the process of forgiveness.
“Thought you might want to take a look at this.” Curly entered the office without knocking, a habit he’d never managed to pick up. He handed Luke a fax that Curly had already reviewed. “The lab in Macon says they’ve gotten backed up and won’t be able to release the autopsy before Monday.”
“Monday? It’s a stab wound. All I need is a formal cause of death and some hint about the murder’s particulars. I can’t run a murder investigation without some shred of evidence.”
“You know it was a knife,” Curly offered laconically.
“Shut up.” Luke read the fax, which included a short apology for the delay. “Tracy Hoover is still M.E., isn’t she?”
“Yep.”
“And she’s usually fairly fast with turnaround.”
“Yep.”
Picking up on the responses, Luke rolled his eyes and let out a breath. “What else do you know?”
“Seems that Tracy’s brother ran into some trouble in Atlanta last year. Didn’t have money for a lawyer, so his sister called in a favor.”
Luke’s eyes became black slits. “Kell Jameson defended her brother?”
“Yep.” Curly shrugged from his position on the couch. “Can’t confirm or deny anything, but I’m guessing we’ll get the results around the same time Miss Kell does, give or take a day or so.”
Luke cursed slowly and methodically, to Curly’s amusement. As the tirade petered out, Curly offered, “Maybe you should focus on the other impossible case you’ve got in your basket.”
“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
“The knife is gone.” Eliza repeated the sentence dumbly as Kell paced the study.
“Then someone else knows that you were at Clay’s apartment.” She stopped. “Are you sure no one saw you?”
“I was.” Head bowed, Eliza felt the dread settle into her. First a murder, then a break-in that left one of her children injured. “Maybe I should tell Luke the truth.”
“Then what happens? He will have the same thoughts that you did. If not you, then one of the children. They had access to the safe.”
“My kids wouldn’t do that,” Eliza defended.
“Perhaps not, but it would be Luke’s job to question them. To suspect them.” Kell stopped walking and joined Eliza on the settee. “Our best defense is figuring out who did this first.”
“How?”
“By eliminating the immediate suspects first. We know you didn’t kill Clay. And, after last night, it’s safe to rule out the children. The man Jorden described is bigger than anyone here.”
“True.” Trying again, she asked, “But wouldn’t this convince Luke as well?”
Natural reticence about cops butted up against what she’d learned of Sheriff Luke. Grudgingly, she answered, “There may come a time when we have to turn to Luke, but we’re not there yet. Until we have more answers, our best defense is to try and find out who else might have wanted Clay dead.”
“But you’re heading back to Atlanta tomorrow,” Eliza pointed out, her voice neutral. “I’m not a sleuth, Kell.”
Kell had already considered the problem. David would have a fit, but right now, she had priorities she’d forsaken for too long. “Don’t worry, Mrs. F. I’ll tie up some loose ends in Atlanta on Monday, and then I’ll be back. I promise.”
“What about the robbery?”
“Luke probably has a theory already. Let me see what I can find out.” Kell bussed Eliza’s cheek with a kiss. “Don’t worry yet. But lock the door behind me.”
Kell hurried out of the Center and climbed into her car, the dent from the errant ball gleaming in the sunlight. Rather than the surge of irritation she expected, she found herself wondering who won the game.
“I’ve been here too long already.” Kell pulled onto the road, then she reached into her bag and removed her cell phone. For a dose of reality, she knew exactly who to call. The phone rang three times before Kell disconnected the line. She counted to thirty, dialed again and cut the line after five rings. Then she counted to fifteen, dialed and let the phone ring seven times. On the eighth ring, she heard the line connect.
“Hey, stranger.”
“Hey, yourself,” responded a voice that Kell had always thought belonged on a 900 number. Findley Borders lounged by a crystalline blue pool, three gold triangles covering inches of skin. An alabaster house rose behind her, reflecting the sunlight from the shimmering water. “You’re early. We’re not due for a chat until next month.”
Kell smiled. “Sue me.”
“Seeing how you got Brodie off, I’ll pass,” Fin demurred. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Fin drew a knee up and draped her arm across. “Kell, you wouldn’t be calling if there wasn’t a problem. What gives?”
“I’m in Hallden.” She waited a beat. “Clay Griffin is dead.”
“Good riddance. Who’s the hero?”
“Unknown. But Mrs. F might become a suspect.”
Fin shot up on her lounger. “No way! She couldn’t kill anyone.”
“I know, I know. That’s why I’m here,” Kell explained quickly. “I’m trying to get a bead on who might have done it instead.”
“Need me to look into anything?”
“Not right now, I just wanted you to know what’s going on.” Kell sped along the road, hesitating. “I think I like the sheriff,” she confessed in a rush.
“As the killer? Old Patmos?”
“Not Sheriff Patmos. Luke Calder, the new sheriff. And not as the killer.”
A low laugh came over the phone. “You’ve fallen for the fuzz.”
Stiffly, Kell corrected, “I haven’t fallen for anyone. I simply think he’s very attractive.”
Singing between giggles, Fin teased, “Kell and the Sheriff, sitting in a tree.”
“Damn it, Fin, you’re so juvenile!”
“And you’re so tightly wound, it’s about time someone had you acting like a girl.”
Kell cursed again. “Why did I even call you?”
“Because Julia would gush and twitter. I’m your reality check.”
Exactly, Kell acknowledged. “I’ve been here for two days. I barely know him.”
“And he’s already gotten to you? What’s his mojo?”
“I don’t understand it myself,” Kell bemoaned. “I
mean, he’s built like an erotic dream, with a voice to match, but he’s also smug and self-righteous and imperious.”
“A perfect match for a woman who’s cocky, too smart for her own good, and afraid to fail.”
Grinding her teeth, Kell muttered, “Thanks for the compliment.”
“I may not have seen you in nearly five years, but I know you, Kell. You’re always in control, always three steps ahead. Maybe you like finding a guy who can keep up with you for once.”
“After a weekend?”
“The weekend isn’t what’s bothering you, kid. It’s the fact that you want it to be longer. Speaking of longer, we need to disconnect now. I’ll get another phone and get the number to you.”
“Fin, we can stop hiding soon.”
“Not yet, though,” Fin warned. “Plus, I’ve been a busy girl, K. Can’t stop running now. Love ya.”
The call ended abruptly, and Kell closed the phone. She needed to call Julia soon as well. First, though, she’d stop by the sheriff’s department and prove Fin and herself wrong. But before she reached the turn-off for the office, a spectacle on the side of the road caught her eye.
A dingy red truck spattered with mud drunkenly straddled the road and the shoulder, one tire dipping into a ravine. Beside the truck, a small menagerie consisting of a goat, a pig, and three yapping dogs milled around aimlessly. A scarecrow of a man yelled orders to the animals, futilely waving what looked like a walking stick. Ahead of the pickup, she recognized Luke’s truck. And the long-legged man yanking another goat along the highway.
Pulling to the side of the road, she emerged from the car and strolled up to the chaos. “Need some help?”
The elderly man answered first. “No, ma’am. Sheriff Calder’s got me taken care of. Out for a drive and something scratched at my undercarriage, then Nadine got scared and jumped out of the truck. Before I could stop ’em, Rufus and Jezebel and Bobby Lee decided to follow. Old Hemp was too tired to make a real go of it. Lucky for me, I had Ernestine on the front seat, but she kept squealing something awful until I let her out.”
In the distance, Luke swore at the goat, whom Kell assumed was the errant Nadine. He tugged at a rope he’d fastened around her neck, and the black-and-gray goat promptly sat on its haunches. “Hey, Luke!”
He glanced up and saw Kell, looking picture-perfect in white slacks and a matching top. For his part, mud tracks had fouled his khaki shirt, a fine partner to the jeans ripped by his tussle with the godforsaken spawn of hell Farmer Henry called Nadine. “What do you want, Kell?”
“Nothing really, just enjoying the show.”
As if on cue, Nadine gained her feet and plowed into Luke, sending him sprawling into the ravine beside the shoulder. Farmer Henry let out a hoot of laughter. “Now, now, Nadine. Quit acting a fool and get back in the truck.”
Kell jogged to the ravine and peered down at Luke. “Oops.”
Levering himself up, he vowed, “Tonight, I’m making goat steaks. Join me for dinner?”
Laughing, Kell reached for his muddy hand and helped him climb up. “Eat Nadine? Why? She’s just playing with you.” For lack of a better option, Kell wiped her dirty palms on a clean part of Luke’s shirt. For a second, her hands lingered on the firm mounds of muscle beneath her touch. When she realized she wasn’t moving, she stepped away. “Sorry. I’m wearing white.”
Luke swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat, ignoring the rush that hardened him instantly. He managed, “That evil goat escapes once a week. Next time, I’m going to let a car hit her.”
Farmer Henry, who’d finally herded the other animals into the truck, ambled over to Luke. “Now, you don’t mean that, Sheriff. Nadine’s not a bad sort.”
“She’s rotten to the core, Henry. And she hates me.” In answer, the goat sauntered over and began to nibble at Luke’s pant leg. “Don’t try flirting with me now.”
Enjoying the show, Kell stood back as Luke tossed the goat into the pickup and closed the gate. “You a farmer in a former life? Look like a natural.”
“Shut up, Kell,” he cautioned. Rounding the side, he helped Farmer Henry into the cab and sternly warned, “I’m not coming out here again this week, Henry. Keep these animals at home.”
“But they like going for a Saturday drive, Sheriff.”
“This is your last warning,” Luke repeated, but no one listening believed him. Henry waved as he drove off, and Luke turned to Kell. “What brings you into town?”
“You, actually.”
“Do tell.”
Kell shook her head. “I wanted to find out if you had any leads on the break-in.”
“Nothing yet. I’ve got Cheryl and a couple of others on it. But who ever did this didn’t leave much to go with. You have any theories you’re willing to share?”
“None,” Kell answered honestly. “I’m heading to Atlanta tomorrow.”
“For how long?”
“Until I’ve got a reason to return.”
Luke took her hand, and Kell didn’t evade him. “Is seeing me a good reason?”
She hesitated, torn. “No, it can’t be. Goodbye, Luke.” She reached up and wiped at a smear of mud along his cheekbone. “Go get cleaned up.”
Sunday morning, Luke carefully picked his way across the abandoned construction site, leaping over fallen cinderblocks and circling muddied pools. The Grove Warehouse project had come to a screeching halt last week when construction crews discovered two charred bodies during excavation. On his orders, the bulldozers had rolled out and the spooked owners were demanding they be allowed to relist the site for sale.
Walking to the exposed iron steps that led down into the basement, Luke recalled the original crime scene. Skeletal remains blackened by soot. One lay near the exit, where a chalk outline marked the position. The other had been deeper in the basement underneath a table. Dental records had identified one of the men, but his office hadn’t received a hit yet that associated the other body with any missing persons records in Hallden or surrounding areas.
The death scene, then and now, bothered Luke. According to the arsonist reports, the fire had begun on the main level and swept through the warehouse. Unlike most warehouses, which were built on concrete slabs, this one possessed a basement level that protected the interior space from the heat of the flames and from earlier detection.
Blueprints pulled from the county planning office revealed no permit for a basement level. Indeed, if the bulldozers hadn’t crushed the main levels, including a weakened subfloor, no one would have been the wiser. Instead, they discovered two burned bodies that somehow made their way downstairs to a section untouched by the conflagration.
Inside the space, Luke saw the scene he’d recorded in his earlier report. Laboratory tools preserved from destruction rested on workbenches around the room. Tests confirmed chemical traces of methamphetamines and cocaine. The drug lab had been shielded by concrete reinforcements, which did the two victims no good.
Moving deeper into the room, Luke paused when he heard a sound coming from above the stairs. A clicking noise sounded on the metal steps, reverberating in the cavernous space. Silently, he shifted to the nearest wall and plastered himself against the rough surface. And waited. Seconds later, the interloper came into view.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Kell startled and spun toward Luke, her brain already reaching for a plausible story. To buy time, she exclaimed, “Luke, you scared me!”
He walked out of the shadows, face grim. “This is a crime scene, Kell. Not a tourist destination.”
“I know.” Kell waved a hand at the chalk outline. “But when you mentioned the fire Friday night, I wanted to see what happened.” Of all the damnable luck. She’d contacted the sheriff’s department before deciding to drive out to the Grove. The dispatcher told her that Luke was on patrol on the outskirts of town—the other side. If there’d been a chance of running into him, she wouldn’t have come. She had no choice but to brazen out the encounter. “I re
present criminals for a living. The mention of the warehouse raised my curiosity. Especially since you’ve considered my name in connection with it.”
“Curiosity is a dangerous vice, Kell,” Luke admonished as he closed the distance between them. “Wandering around dilapidated buildings is a surefire way to get hurt. Especially wearing shoes like that.” He looked pointedly at the sleek brown shoes with their skyscraper heels.
The heels matched the trim chocolate suit she’d put on this morning. She’d chosen the outfit for the trousers and because these were her lowest pair of heels. Her travel wardrobe hadn’t included casual outfits appropriate for the investigating a murder that implicated her.
“What are you doing here, Kell?”
“I’m on my way back to Atlanta,” she explained. “This was on the way.”
Luke frowned. “The freeway is north of the Center. This is south.”
Oh, yeah. Recovering quickly, she corrected, “First, I planned to visit a friend that I haven’t seen in years.”
“A friend? Who?”
Plucking a name from her memory, Kell responded, “Mattie Cotton. She and I were on the cheerleading squad together.” Hopefully, Mattie still lived on the farm her family had run for generations.
“You were a cheerleader?”
“I was co-captain.” Kell made a furtive scan of the space. It was just as she remembered. Sterile, cold, and mean. Dangerous, even empty of what she’d seen then. Repressing a shudder, she asked, “Why are you here, Sheriff?”
“As I told you, this is an open investigation.” One that became more convoluted by the day.
“Have you determined who the victims were?”
“We’ve got one name. Louis Pippin. A fairly renowned dealer in the meth trade back in its infancy, also dabbled in prostitution and extortion around the region. The theory is that he was trapped down here by the fire.”
“But there’s no damage to this room.”
“Which is why I disagree with the theory. Chief Graves and I have a difference of opinion, but since the warehouse is outside the city limits, it falls into my jurisdiction.”
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